


My Unorthodox Treatment

by RumCove



Series: My Unorthodox Treatment [1]
Category: Scrubs (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Eventual Romance, Fluff, M/M, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:22:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 220,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24426475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RumCove/pseuds/RumCove
Summary: Perry Cox finds being an alpha doctor working in the hellhole that is Sacred Heart something of a headache. Not as much of a headache as he finds his self-appointed beta "protégé" constantly trying to get his attention and some sort of goddamn hug all the time, of course, but neither are great. Particularly not when deep down he really doesn't find Newbie that bad. At all. And it just gets even more of a crazy, annoying headache when he finds out something that he really didn't want to find out and can never not know again after a bad day in the ER.JD finds his entire existence something of a headache, when it all boils down to it. And now his crazy, terrifying boss knows the one thing that he's kept from everyone since he went to college. This can only end badly, right?An alpha/beta/omega fic set in the Scrubs universe.
Relationships: Perry Cox/John "JD" Dorian
Series: My Unorthodox Treatment [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1989949
Comments: 371
Kudos: 315





	1. 01. Prologue

**My Unorthodox Treatment**

**by RumCove**

**Prologue**

When I first read an A/B/O fic a couple of years ago (I know, I was quite late into it) I had absolutely no idea what the hell was going on for a while. So I’ve done a little preamble of what the groupings I’ve created for this story mean so it isn’t completely dropping anyone new into this sort of AU in at the deep end.

An explanation of the Alpha-Beta-Omega dynamics in this specific universe (some of this has my own tweaks):

AΑ

Medical terminology: Dominant alpha

Colloquial: “Pure alpha”, “true alpha”

Both male and female dominant alphas are capable of impregnating female betas and omegas. Have a shifted internal biology, with adapted vocal chords, scent glands and genitalia, with both genders capable of “knotting” omegas. Capable of producing strong pheromones. Viewed as being the pinnacle of evolution and often idealized and romanticized in literature as strong, heroic figures. Tend to be successful in careers, although it has been argued that this is due to the inherent societal bias towards them rather than any additional capability through their secondary gender. Excel in all fields, but particularly in politics, business and medicine. Males are idealized whilst females are often shunned and ostracized as "unnatural".

Tend to be large, strong and independent. Can be volatile and violent, particularly when younger and with limited self-control. Can be pushed into ruts by omega pheromones. Capable of bonding with omegas, resulting in both partners being considerably less affected by other pheromones and becoming extremely physically attuned to their partner. Both recessive and dominant alphas have enlarged canines (known as fangs) that can produce mating venom to bite an omega and bond with them.

  * 15% of the population is AΑ: 10% male, 5% female



\- - - - -

αΒ

Medical terminology: Recessive alpha

Colloquial: occasionally known as beta-dominant alpha, but generally not used

Males are capable of impregnating female betas and omegas, females are not. Females have low fertility rates for carrying a child, but are capable of doing so. Have a similar physical biology to AΑ, although less pronounced. Knotting can occur with males, although this is more difficult to achieve than with AΑ. Produce pheromones, but these are weaker than AΑ pheromones and they are not as attuned to omega pheromones as AΑ are. Still large and powerful individuals with a biological advantage and a strong societal bias towards them. Less volatile than AΑ and less likely to unexpectedly go into rut. Female αΒ are considerably less likely to be viewed negatively by society compared to female AA.

Bonding with omegas can occur, although the bonds are viewed as less strong than those of AΑ.

  * 20% of the population is αΒ: 12% male, 8% female



\- - - - -

Ββ

Medical terminology: Beta

Colloquial: “normies”, “non phero”, “humans”

Individuals with normal human biology, non-responsive to pheromones and most are not even able to detect them. Males can impregnate beta women and omegas, females can carry children. Despite being overwhelmingly the largest sub-group, they tend to be sidelined and limited in truly exceeding in their careers due to societal alpha bias. A very rare sub-group of betas can weakly identify pheromones (although do not respond to them) and generally are taught not to acknowledge this as it makes alphas and omegas uncomfortable to be "caught out" by a beta.

  * 45% of the population is Ββ; 23% male, 22% female



\- - - - -

Βω

Medical terminology: Beta dominant omega

Colloquial: “omega recessive”, “semi omega”

Female beta dominant omegas are capable of carrying children, whilst males are not. Male Βω are capable of impregnating beta females and omegas, but have heavily reduced fertility. Have adapted vocal chords and scent glands. Capable of releasing weak pheromones and reactive to alpha pheromones, although not as heavily affected as dominant omegas by them.

Βω go into heat c. once every six months, females can be impregnated by alphas and male betas (and potentially male Βω, although this is not well documented), whilst males have a mating drive during heat but no capability of becoming impregnated. Βω heats result in the Βω losing their inhibitions, with many describing it as being similar to being heavily drunk. They do not go through the dramatic heat cycles that dominant omegas are renowned for and are capable of controlling themselves and can usually fight off any unwelcome alphas.

Can bond with alphas and have significant societal disadvantages. As a rare group, they are often dissuaded from pursuing careers by alphas and encouraged to focus on finding an alpha mate. Βω who do pursue a career face significant difficulties, but there is no inherent structural blocker to them following any career they choose. In reality, they tend to become stuck at lower tiers of organizations and find themselves unable to obtain promotion, even with strong records of performance. Often viewed as empathetic and introspective; they tend to be pigeon-holed as carers, teachers or in any profession which involves dealing with children.

  * 15% of the population is Βω; 10% female, 5% male



\- - - - -

ΩΩ

Medical terminology: Dominant omega

Colloquial: “pure omega”, “true omega”

An extremely rare group, both males and females can carry children. Have adapted vocal chords and different internal organs to betas and beta dominant omegas that allows them to be knotted without causing significant internal damage. Highly attuned to pheromones from both alphas and omegas, with scent glands that regulate their internal omegan biology. Capable of releasing extremely strong pheromones, particularly when distressed, contented or in heat.

Go into heat c. once every three months, when they are capable of being impregnated by an alpha. Technically dominant omegas can be impregnated by betas but very rarely are so; most dominant omegas in heat will reject a non-alpha mate. Lose all control and logical thought during the peak of heats and will become highly distressed if not mated during this time. Dominant omegas have been known to go into toxic shock if not mated during a heat and can die. Produce extremely strong pheromones during heats that can send alphas within the immediate area into rut. As a result, unbonded dominant omegas are viewed as a public menace and are in the care of the closest alpha relative. Can bond with alphas. The strongest bonds are colloquially between dominant alphas and omegas, but due to the small population of dominant omegas there is not enough evidence to substantiate this.

Dominant omegas have enlarged canines that produce mating venom for bonding; these are generally smaller than alpha “fangs”, although sharper and theorized to be adapted for self-defense due to how vulnerable dominant omegas can become when in heat. Dominant omega venom can cause serious injury and even death in less dominant counterparts.

Female dominant omegas are characterized as smaller, attractive and delicate or “dainty” in appearance; male dominant omegas are so rare that there is limited study of them but are generally assumed to be similar in appearance to females. The most telling feature is the dominant omegan irises, which appear to glow, a change which comes about during presentation, usually at around fourteen years old.

Usually not seen in society and under the protection of a close alpha relative or their mate. Occasionally seen as artists or poets, but otherwise no real career options. Viewed as temperamental, hysterical, unintelligent and impractical, although since the majority of the population have never met one this is an unsubstantiated assessment.

  * 5% of the population are ΩΩ; 4% female, 1% male



\- - - - -

“Presentation” occurs during the onset of puberty, with alphas and omegas going through biological changes. Dominant and recessive alpha subsets are assessed some years after initial presentation to confirm their grouping. Omegas are immediately identifiable, as only dominant omegas develop the distinctive irises. If a child has not presented by the age of sixteen then they are confirmed as beta.

As the statistically smallest group, female alphas and male omegas have a particularly complicated biology, with both groups having to support two sets of reproductive systems, albeit with their “primary gender” reproductive system essentially being sterilized during presentation. As a result, they are considerably more likely to suffer from medical complications and mental health issues.

\- - - - -

There is an increasing public hostility towards what is viewed as the automatic privilege of alphas and the draconian treatments of omegas and the deprivation of their civil liberties. However, since alphas hold 90% of the world’s wealth, there is little being done, apart from occasional marches against the status quo and an increasing usage of social media to create platforms to speak out.

\- - - - -

The beginning of this fic is set somewhere near the end of season 5. Doctor Cox and Jordan are fully broken up and Jack Cox has not been born in this universe (you’ll see why relatively soon in this fic). Also, JD never slept with Jordan (again, you’ll see why relatively early on). However, it’s set in the present day, as I’m too obsessed with things like smartphones now and forget how we used to cope. There’s no COVID though, as it’s bad enough living through this, I don’t hugely want to write about it currently. I feel there’s probably some amazing Scrubs-COVID fic that would be really thought-provoking and deep, but I’m not feeling up to it…

There are no links or crossovers between this fic and my “My Captive Audience” series, although if you’ve read those then you might notice a few correlations (I'm well aware that there might be a few MCA-isms sliding in over time and there will be a brief guest appearance of one MCA character - not Steve Gourley). Ironically, despite this fic being way more AU than MCA, the characters seem a bit more cheerful and canon than the rather miserable MCA cast.

This work is written in the first person, with the POV flip-flopping between JD and Doctor Cox. I’ve tried to make it as clear as I can about who is narrating, so hopefully this won’t cause much confusion.

As far as I can see, nobody has written an A/B/O Scrubs fanfic before, presumably because no one wanted to write or read that. However, I had the idea for this and then it got stuck in my head and... well, here it is. 

If you’re wondering, I don’t know why I write “Doctor” instead of “Dr”, I don’t seem to be able to stop myself. I'm particularly perplexed by the fact I write “Mr” rather than “Mister”, but who knows? Anyway, on with the show…


	2. 02. My ER Nightmare

**My Unorthodox Treatment**

**by RumCove**

**My ER Nightmare**

Disclaimer: Scrubs original characters belong to Bill Lawrence and NBC/ABC/Doozer Productions etc. Basically, not owned by me. I own the original characters in this work.

Half asleep, rushing down the corridor to the incessant sound of my pager I’m functioning on piss-poor coffee and about three hours of sleep in the last forty eight. _Jesus_ , what the hell’s going on, who sent out a page to what seems to be the entire hospital saying to come to the ER immediately?

I slam the door open and pause, frowning. Half the medical staff of Sacred Heart seem to be standing by the door, frozen and staring wide-eyed at something covered in blood in the middle of the ER, Barbie and one of the nurses desperately working away on it. I take a breath, about to deliver one hell of a rant at them all for asking why on earth _Barbie_ of all people seems to be the only one acting like a goddamn doctor.

But as the air fills my lungs in order to fuel some devastating tirade I choke and then stagger slightly. Because I’ve figured out why they’re all standing there like that; the place _reeks_ of distressed dominant omega.

Explaining to anyone who’s _not_ an alpha what it’s like to smell that is pretty difficult. Your body reacts in an utterly ridiculous way, even if you’ve no idea who the damn omega is. The alpha instinct is to protect it, omegas release very specific pheromones when they’re in pain or frightened, using biology subconsciously to try to protect themselves from attack, calling on any nearby alphas to protect them. And as soon as an alpha picks up on this, they become single-mindedly focused on destroying whatever the source of the omega’s pain or fear is, overriding their own self-protection and pretty much all higher brain function in the process.

There’s a couple problems with this; one is that there’s no obvious threat to the omega that’s clearly dying in the ER as Barbie struggles to keep it alive. So the alpha response gets confused with no visible enemy to attack. Adrenaline’s released and alphas then start secreting their own pheromones, trying to freak out the unseen enemy and riling each other up in the process. So the only response is to freeze up and stare, awaiting the appearance of whatever the threat is.

The other problem is that most doctors in Sacred Heart (hell, most doctors all over the world) are alphas, so there’s a load of useless, adrenaline fueled, confused alphas standing around staring in horror at the dying omega. I’m surprised none of them have gotten stressed out and started attacking each other. The only people able to function are those unaffected by pheromones, explaining Barbie’s unusually calm and collected performance.

Omegas are affected even more bizarrely by distressed omega pheromones. There’s two nurses who are omega-beta blends, one of whom is Carla. Usually completely focused and sensible, she appears to be the one paging everybody to desperately try and get assistance for her fellow omega, tears running down her face and shaking. The other is simply sat in a corner bawling and releasing her own additional (but much weaker) distressed scent.

I’ve realized that I’ve frozen up as much as all the idiots around me and shake myself, stepping forward and then staggering again as the smell gets stronger, _oh my God_ , I can’t focus, I can barely even think, the pheromones must be pouring off the poor thing. The door crashes open behind me and I hear Newbie barrel through with a “hey, Doctor Cox, what’s the-“ before he abruptly freezes, apparently just noticing all of the frozen alphas around him. I snarl and turn on him, seizing him by the front of his scrubs, noticing but not really caring that he looks sickened.

“Go and _help her_ ,” I growl at him, throwing him towards Barbie. I meant to gently shove him, but the amount of adrenaline in my system means I push him much harder than intended, making him stagger and just manage to catch himself before faceplanting.

“Go on, betas can’t smell the damn pheromones, it’s the only time you guys can genuinely do something alphas can’t, _go.”_

He gives me a frightened look in response, but then hurries over to Barbie’s side.

\- - - - -

“Oh, JD, thank God,” Elliot groans at me as I appear next to her. Oh my God, there’s blood everywhere.

“Status?” I ask her, trying to keep my voice steady as I stare at the omega on the operating table. She’s what an alpha would think of as a stereotypical omega; slender, petite, waif-like, large eyes and a slightly ethereal beauty on her fine features. Or she was, before she was attacked brutally. She’s covered in blood, a ragged tear down the center of her chest, her arm lying at an unnatural angle and the scarf wrapped around her neck completely matted in blood. Her once-expensive clothing is tattered and ragged, almost completely rent from her body.

“I… I don’t know JD, there’s just so much blood. She’s haemorrhaging from somewhere, I’ve stopped the bleeding from her chest but…”

The omega, horrifyingly, opens her eyes and stares at me, silently pleading and terrified. There’s a brief flash of recognition followed by confusion when her gaze focuses on me. The eyes are the biggest giveaway that she’s a dominant omega, the irises nearly glowing in a vivid shade of green, almost like they’re lit from within. Alphas think it’s beautiful, I’ve personally always found it slightly creepy.

On cue, one of the alphas behinds me sees her eyes and lets out a miserable whine followed by a whimpered “oh my God, it’s a pure one…”

“Get out,” I snap behind me and then turn back to her and try to give her a reassuring smile. “I need to take the scarf off to see what’s happening under there, alright?”

She gives a slight nod and then flinches. I carefully unwrap the scarf, noting with alarm how sodden it is even with a load of material still tightly wound around her neck.

“Paula, get ready with a blood transfusion ASAP, I think we’ve got a jugular haemorrhage.”

Paula nods and scurries over to hook the omega up as I press my hands tight against the scarf, feeling the blood already welling up over my hands. The omega’s enormous green eyes roll in her head before she passes out.

“Elliot, help me put pressure on the wound-“

There’s a sudden, violent snarl behind me, followed by something slamming into me hard as the omega blood and pheromones get too much for two of the alphas and a fight breaks out, with the loser apparently being thrown straight at me. I stagger, trying to keep the pressure on the wound, but then another snarl comes from the side of me.

“For God’s sake, get a hold of yourself!“ I hear Doctor Cox growl from somewhere at the back of the ER, but it’s apparently not enough to make whichever alpha it is back down. They collide into me and I’m knocked sideways, staggering to my knees, losing the pressure on the omega’s neck and dragging her scarf off in the process. Suddenly relieved of the pressure of both my hands and the wadding of the scarf, the omega’s carotid artery gushes out an arc of blood, spattering a gout of it over me. The wash of pheromones that follows practically makes the room mist up. The alphas promptly go completely crazy, although as I heave myself back to my feet I’m pretty sure I can hear Doctor Cox, sounding strained and slightly hysterical, telling them all to get the hell out right now.

I’m drenched in blood and fucking pheromones, my eyes starting to itch furiously and I’m feeling dizzy. I try to press my hands back against the omega’s bare neck to stem the blood flow and touch something terribly wrong. I look down, freezing.

“E-Elliot?”

Elliot appears next to me and makes a strangled noise of shock. The omega’s scent gland, which regulates the pheromones in her body, has been deeply bitten into, nearly ripped out of her neck, the teeth shearing through her arteries. It’s like a horrible parody of a mating bond and explains the massive amount of pheromones that she’s emitting.

She’s dead, even though the heart monitor is still feebly beating. Her body will be completely unable to regulate itself.

Almost as if she’s been reading our thoughts, she flatlines.

And suddenly it doesn’t matter that the poor girl is dead no matter what, because who needs all that omega shit anyway, there’s chemical regulators, if I can keep her alive we can inject those, all I can focus on is that flatline. I grab the defibrillator paddles, pressing them down against her slim body, her clothing already so tattered that there’s no need to cut it away.

“JD, there’s no way-“

“Clear,” I growl at Elliot, who quickly grabs Paula and backs away from the table.

The electric current jerks through her body, nearly physically lifting her slight frame into the air. One of the alphas makes a howl of anguish behind me at the sight (why the hell hasn’t Doctor Cox gotten them out of here?) before I hear feet running towards me as an enraged alpha tries to charge me. There’s a meaty noise as they run into something hard that tells them to get a grip on themselves, Denise.

Ah, that’s where he is.

Paula has appeared at my elbow and is manually pumping air into the girl’s lungs as the paddles are charging. I narrow my eyes, listening to the whine of the electricity refueling them before gently pushing Paula aside.

“Clear!”

The girl’s body jerks again and sprawls lifeless as the noise of the paddles whine pointlessly into my ears. I look back at the flat-lining monitor.

“Doctor Dorian?” Paula says quietly. “Should I carry on with manual ventilation?”

I shake my head, dropping the paddles, screwing my burning eyes shut.

“Time of death, 1633.”

Oh God, I need some air.

\- - - - -

I don’t know what the collective noun for a group of alphas is. It’s probably “a gaggle” or something, but I point out to myself that it should be “a moron”. Because I appear to be standing in a moron of alphas, all staring in dumbfounded horror at the dead, mangled omega lying on the gurney. Newbie’s leaning against the gurney, staring down at her, breathing hard. Barbie just put a hand on his shoulder and he shrugged it off, uncharacteristically. I can’t see his face and I’m not sure I want to.

“I’ve never even _seen_ a pure one before and now it’s dead…” someone says mournfully, like the tragic dead omega is somehow a personal loss.

“Stupid little thing,” growls another, prompting hissed fury from the assembled moron of alphas. I snap my gaze over to the alpha, a dominant from surgery, Doctor Brenner.

“Why was she a stupid little thing, pray tell?” I growl at him.

“The idiot went into heat in public. Can’t blame the alphas for their reactions and it resisted them.”

“Oh, I abso-hu-lutely can.” I advance on Brenner, my frayed nerves apparently identifying him as an excellent target for my ire. His hackles are up already and I lock eyes with him, ready to let out all the frustration and anxiousness and nonsensical alpha guilt that an omega just died by turning it all into the physical action of slamming his head into the wall until he can’t say such poisonous-

“Stop it!” Carla yelps out shrilly, leaning against the wall and shaking. Gandhi moves over to her and wraps his arms around her, stroking a hand over the bonding scar on her neck and trying to soothe her. This prompts another wash of omega pheromones, although a lot weaker than those emitted by the now-dead dominant omega. Fortunately this variety are the calming ones that omegas make when consoled by an alpha, which comforts alphas in turn.

Newbie abruptly turns from the gurney, walking out of the ER. I watch him go through into the corridor and stagger suddenly as he does so, catching himself against the wall. He stands for a moment and then calls the elevator.

Huh. I shoved him much harder than I realized. I should probably apologize, although that may just shock him so much that I’ll need to shove him again to get him focused back on this reality, opposed to whichever fluffy one he visits where we’re best pals and I’m his goddamn mentor.

The alphas are apparently all starting to come out of their fug; the dead omega can’t produce any more pheromones now. I tiredly tell Barbie and the beta nurse to take the omega to the morgue. I glance around the ER and look back at Barbie.

“Why the hell were there so few betas on today?”

She shrugs. “There’s less of us anyway, Doctor Cox.”

“Yeah, but there’s less omegas than betas and there was still only one more of you than there was of them. I mean, _that_ was an extreme situation, but we’re supposed to have resilience in case we get patients in heats and ruts as well.”

Barbie shrugs again. “I really don’t know, Doctor Cox. There’s definitely more than just me, Paula and JD in today, maybe they just couldn’t get through. The alphas were kind of blocking the way and it can be intimidating when you guys do that. But maybe you should say something to Doctor Kelso?”

“You bet your ass I will,” I growl back at her. Bobo’s a beta, the bastard probably has no idea how useless alphas get in that kind of situation. He’ll probably just tell me that the alphas need to control themselves better. Which I don’t disagree with, but we don’t exactly have the best quality of alphas here. Added to which, half of them have never even been near a dominant omega – a lot of them get bow-legged if they spend too much time near Carla and she’s beta dominant.

I should probably go check on Newbie, but first I need some fresh air. There’s pheromones everywhere and stewing in them will probably make me incredibly angry or horny. Or both. I growl to myself again and stalk out to the elevator, catching it up to the roof. I stare at myself in the mirrored glass as I do so, checking my eyes for any sign of an impending rut. Nothing. Good, at least that demonstrates that I’m _not_ one of the low quality alphas in Sacred Heart. Idiots can’t control themselves and blame it on biology, weak bastards.

As I step out onto the roof I close my eyes and take a deep breath of clean air. Or as clean as this filthy little part of California can get anyway.

I grunt, snapping my eyes open. I can still smell the damn distressed omega scent, somehow even stronger now. I huff out of my nose, trying to clear any lingering pheromone out of my nostrils, but it makes no difference. I scrub my eyes and glance across the roof, identifying the source.

Damn Newbie’s come up here, sprawled against the low wall by the edge of the roof, still drenched in blood and pheromones. Well, that explains why I can still smell distressed omega so strongly. I’m briefly incredibly annoyed with him, but then sigh. He’s beta, he won’t be aware how much the damn pheromones reek and is clearly overwrought. She was only a kid and died pretty traumatically on him. He’s sprawled, one leg up and hooked slightly over the low wall, his head rolled back, eyes closed, breathing heavily. It’s against his usual prissy way of sitting, he’s a leg-crosser, not a sprawler.

I walk over and nudge him with my foot. Jesus, the pheromones are somehow even stronger here than they were in the damn ER. There’s a weird edge to them, a metallic sort of scent, which I guess must be all the blood.

“Hey, Newbie. I’m tryin’ to get some fresh air up here and you reek like an omega luau.”

He keeps his eyes closed and shakes his head softly. “I’m sorry, Doctor Cox, I’m not feeling too great. Maybe you should go downstairs instead.”

“Not goin’ anywhere, Newb. I’m not standing down there with the smokers and the fatties.”

He frowns, his eyes still tightly shut. “That… that doesn’t happen much, does it?”

“I’m guessing you mean the poor omega kid rather than the smokers and the fatties? Nah, I’ve probably only seen one every few years and never… never like _that_. Jesus. Like a pack of dogs attacked her and that moron Brenner tried to blame her. Omegas don’t tend to get treated here anyway, they’re usually sold off to the highest bidder so can get better medical treatment than this dump provides. Well, the dominant ones do, anyway.”

I stare out at the sky, trying to inhale without getting another whiff of Newbie’s scrubs and fail. “Newb, how the hell do the pheromones smell even stronger now than they did in the ER? They were fading down there, it must be something to do with the blood keeping them active.”

He shifts slightly and turns his head, apparently looking out over at the sky. “Probably. Look, Doctor Cox, I really do feel pretty bad. You should probably go somewhere else, I’ll be sat on this roof stinking for a while.”

Not like him to not jump at every opportunity to spend time with me. I frown. “Look… it’s not your fault. That girl was dead before she even got to the ER and you tried your best. Don’t let it get to you, Newbie.”

He slumps back down, eyes closed, cracking his head off the wall behind him. I wince sympathetically.

“That’s gonna hurt.”

“Ugh.”

He makes to curl into a ball and then abruptly stops himself, his body going rigid for a second. Something’s wrong. The odd twitchy, controlled movements are wrong, his sprawled posture, the heavy breathing, the way his eyes are still screwed shut…

“Hey, Newbie, look at me.”

He shakes his head almost violently and I crouch down in front of him, ignoring the wave of pheromones that hits me as I do.

“JD, look at me.”

He opens his eyes and looks at me miserably. The usually cornflower blue irises have taken on a vivid, glowing cerulean hue that’s nearly unearthly. I stare at him in shock and he makes a despondent noise.

“I thought so… all the pheromones there have made the inhibitors stop working, haven’t they?”

I abruptly realize that the reason that the roof stinks of distressed omega is that there’s a distressed omega sitting on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know I know, of course I wrote JD as an omega...


	3. 03. My Potted History

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know, I've uploaded rather a lot in one go, but chapter 1 is just an intro and 2 is really just a scene setter and I wanted to get this thing going, knowwhatI'msayin'?

**My Unorthodox Treatment**

**by RumCove**

**My Potted History**

Disclaimer: Scrubs original characters belong to Bill Lawrence and NBC/ABC/Doozer Productions etc. Basically, not owned by me. I own the original characters in this work.

I’ve wanted to be a doctor for as long as I remember. I obviously played Operation as a kid and bandaged my toys when they got into “scrapes” and all the other things that kids do, but I also just had this burning desire to help people. I wanted to be able to fix people, to make things better. When my parents divorced that just got stronger, my powerlessness to “fix” them manifesting more and more in my wanting to be able to help other people, to mend them. When I started high school the career counselor asked what job I wanted to have when I grew up and I proudly responded that I was going to be a doctor. He gave me an indulgent look.

“Dorian, right? Your older brother Dan’s already at this school?”

“Yeahh,” I’d muttered.

“He’s on the football team, right? And just presented as an alpha? Your parents must be very proud.”

I’d given a slightly sickly smile in response – considering that Dan had spent that morning giving me increasingly painful noogies “in preparation” for high school I didn’t think anyone should be proud of Dan.

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“Well, then that bodes well for you. Alphas do very well as doctors.”

I’d frowned, but he hadn’t been looking at me and continued. “Your grades look very promising; you have to study hard to be a doctor. Are you going to?”

“Yes, sir.”

I had studied hard, as well. Not just because I wanted to be a doctor – I don’t think it’s any surprise to anyone that I was a bit of a nerd at school. So yeah, obviously I got roughed up a fair bit, but not excessively so. To be honest, if Dan’s friends hadn’t all apparently spent most of their time trying to push me into lockers then I’d probably describe my high school experience as relatively normal for a nerdy kid who genuinely enjoyed studying biology. The negative experiences of getting dogpiled on and tormented by Dan and his friends were kinda balanced out by playing dungeons and dragons with my groups of fellow nerds and Gamecube nights with pizza, Mountain Dew and marshmallow fluff, going hyperactive and then vomiting for the rest of the evening.

Only that all changed when I was nearly fifteen. Generally speaking, kids present between around thirteen and fifteen. Dan presented as alpha when he had just turned thirteen, so when I hit my fourteenth birthday without any suggestion of presentation my Mom gently told me that she thought I was likely a beta. I remember her expression when she said it, looking worried that I was going to be upset. I’d grinned at her in response.

“But that’s great, Mom.”

“Great? John, you don’t need to pretend that-“

“I’m not pretending, Mom. I _want_ to be a beta, you and Dad are both betas and I don’t _wanna_ be like Dan, he’s a-“ Mom lifted her eyebrows and I paused, biting back the cuss “-he’s… uh, he’s a booger.”

“A booger, right?”

“Yeah. And I wanna be a doctor and betas are _the best_ doctors. They don’t react to pheromones, they’re not controlled by their bodies. Really, Mom, I’m _glad_.”

What I felt was something I probably couldn’t even have expressed properly at that age, even if I tried. That being an alpha seemed to be really undignified to me. People seemed to think that everyone should desperately want to be one, but to me it seemed like they were entirely controlled by their bodies, that they were more animal than human. Who’d want to be that?

I guess I thought the same thing about omegas, but I’d never met an omega. I didn’t think about omegas. Nobody thought about omegas.

So, the general assumption was that I was a beta, I was just waiting to turn sixteen when it would be officially recorded and people would stop simpering and asking whether I was maybe just a little disappointed to not be an alpha (“you look so much like Dan as well, although I guess a little shorter, it’s such a shame”). It was annoying and I remember being viciously pleased when Dan was assessed as a recessive alpha when he’d been hoping to be dominant. He’d shrugged and smirked at me:

“Still better than a beta.” (Que another noogie.)

But I had been intrigued. “What did presenting as an alpha feel like, Dan?”

He’d been surprised at my curiosity, then frowned. “Kinda weird. I just woke up one day feeling… well, feeling really angry. And horny. Well, more so than… y’know, than just waking up normally. I didn’t really realize what was happening to begin with, what with Mom and Dad being betas I always just assumed I would be too. So I just kinda ignored it and kept going, but then I started to get hot and get cramps.. uh, down _there_.”

I’d widened my eyes. “You got cramps in your peeps?”

“Yeah, it was _so_ weird. After that I told Mom I felt sick and she took me to the doc and they told me I was presenting as an alpha.”

A few weeks after that, when I was a couple months away from turning fifteen I woke up feeling feverish. I’d assumed I’d maybe got a bit of ‘flu and scrubbed at my eyes, sitting up in bed and then gasping at the sudden cramp that ran through me. I remembered a snatch of my conversation with Dan and a horrible fear ran over me that actually I _was_ presenting as alpha, I was just late.

I’d tried to get out of bed and the movement suddenly made me aware of the moisture on my mattress and I’d frozen. What the hell, had I _peed_ myself? Dan hadn’t peed himself and, thinking about it, the cramp was low in my stomach not anywhere else. I staggered out of bed, but dizziness surged through me and I’d collapsed, my legs useless. My head throbbed and then my eyes were suddenly burning, the pain sharp and vivid compared to the dull throbbing in my head and my abdomen.

I’d screamed in terror and pain. Mom and Husband Three (Kevin, newly acquired) had burst into the room, apparently under the impression I was being murdered and then baffled that I was just lying on the floor, my head in my hands wailing. The bedroom door next to me slammed open and I heard Dan shuffle out, radiating frustration and annoyance:

“What the hell, Johnny, did you stub your toe or something just _shut up_.”

I’d gulped some air down, trying to do as he told me and was suddenly swamped by… calling it “smells” or “scents” wouldn’t really do it justice. I know now it was pheromones, but at the time it was a smell so strong it practically had a color and a flavor. There were two distinctly different scents, one like the smell of freshly dug earth and the other an oddly woody smell, reminding me of peeling tree bark under my nails when climbing up the old birch outside our house when I was a kid. It was vivid and briefly so overwhelming that I immediately was shocked into silence.

The silence was broken by two sudden growls and scuffling noises before there was a loud bang that made me jump. I’d kept my eyes screwed shut, genuinely terrified that if I opened them I’d be met with the terrible realization that I’d gone blind, so couldn’t see what was going on. I was later told that Kevin had stepped towards me and Dan had moved so quickly that he’d practically teleported to stand between Kevin and me. He’d then started snarling and when Kevin had growled back in response Dan had bodily hurled him out of the room and slammed the door.

“Mom, you need to get him to leave the house!” Dan yelled, his voice high and panicked.

“Why… what.. what’s going on, why did you just-?”

I’d felt the air shift in front of me as Dan crouched down. The smell of tree bark was stronger now, undercut with a weird sharp scent, slightly citrusy – again, I now know that’s what concerned alpha smells like, but at the time it smelt like a lemon on a twig.

“Johnny, open your eyes.”

“No, I can’t Dan, they _hurt_.”

Dan inhaled hard and then groaned. There was a muttered “Jesus, that’s strong, why the hell is it that strong?” before he grabbed me by the shoulders and gently shook me. “C’mon Johnny, open your eyes, I need to check something.”

I’d forced my eyes open, expecting either no sight or blurred vision and was as pleasantly surprised as it’s possible to be to get an eyeful of Dan at close range.

Dan, however, didn’t look pleased at all, he looked terrified. He glanced back over his shoulder and growled “Mom, _look_.”

My Mom was stood with her back pressed against the door as it shook every so often, a distracted expression on her face. She turned her attention over to us:

“What exactly am I supposed to be looking a-“

She froze, the same terrified expression running over her face. She stared at me for a second and then at Dan.

“I’ll get Kevin out the house, he can’t be…” she paused, then frowned at Dan. “I… Can I leave you alone with him? Should I-?”

“It’s _fine_ , Mom, biology’s not that sick. You can put your hand down my pants to check if you want.”

She’d looked disgusted and then slipped quickly out the room. The earthy smell rolled through again as she did.

“Why does everything stink?” I demanded.

“It’s… it’s the pheromones, you’re picking them up because you’re presenting.”

Dan sounded weirdly gentle, completely out of character for him. I giggled slightly, not initially processing what he said. “You smell like fucking tree bark, you loser.”

He grinned at me. “Yeah, well, you utterly reek, I’ve never smelt anything like it.”

I’d frozen though, realizing what he’d said. “I’m _presenting_? Shit.” I tried not to cry, I’d been so sure I was beta. I let out a sudden weird noise I’d never heard anyone make before, a keening, distressed whine.

“It’s okay Johnny, really, you’ll be fine, it’s… it’s fine, we’ll figure something out.”

I knew he’d be mortally offended, but I couldn’t help blurting out “Yeah, but Dan, I wanted to be beta, I don’t _want_ to be alpha.”

He’d looked at me for a moment with such pity that I felt dread starting to uncurl in my stomach, bleeding into the cramping pains. He stroked a hand gently through my hair and then softly said “Johnny… you’re not presenting as alpha.”

He reached over to my bookcase and showed me the mirror I kept there. And I was staring into my face, my gawky, adolescent, stupid face with just one difference from yesterday. The vivid, glowing blue eyes.

I stared for a moment longer and then glanced at Dan. “I… I guess at least I’m dominant?”

The keening, miserable whine was suddenly back in my throat and so much louder than before, changing without any intentional control from me, blending into a sudden, horrible howling noise that reverberated through my vocal chords. I had no idea what was happening at the time, but obviously now know that the keening whines are what happens when an omega gets distressed – part of the sympathetic nervous system, with no more control over that than you can control breaking out into a sweat. The howl is an indication of an omega under so much stress that the sympathetic nervous system kicks into action to try to attract protection, the ultimate state of distress an omega can get into.

And apparently it sounded so overwrought and miserable that my brother – who usually wouldn’t touch me unless it was to punch me – wrapped his arms around me and released a wash of alpha pheromones to calm me down. Unfortunately he was still utterly inexperienced and released way too much, which essentially knocked me out cold for several hours. To be honest, I think that was probably for the best.

\- - - - -

Presenting as omega is… well, not pleasant, to say the least. Dan presenting as alpha at thirteen basically just resulted in him getting angry and horny and then developing a pubescent knot. There’s minimal biological change, although something happens with their vocal chords as well and they tend to get a massive testosterone surge. I have very little sympathy for anyone bitching about how unpleasant it was to develop a massive cock, if I’m honest.

I guess a female presenting as alpha would be a lot more unpleasant; there’s more intrinsic remodelling done then. Female alphas do have ova, something people seem to assume they don’t have, but when they present they essentially sterilize themselves, something that’s apparently very painful. Their reproductive capabilities switch to a capability to impregnate as opposed to carry a child and it really screws the body up. Female alphas have a lot in common with male omegas, particularly dominant male omegas. Both are horribly fetishized and seen as freaks. It depends on how you look at it as to who has it worst off; male omegas are pretty highly valued for their rarity, whilst female alphas are generally treated like they’re repulsive and distained by society as a whole. But they have their freedom and aren’t traded like commodities.

Presenting as omega as a nearly fifteen year old with what I had assumed was a beta male body was extremely painful. My insides were rearranging themselves and it was agonizingly painful. I was growing new internal organs in days, constantly burning up and sweating. My vocal chords were changing too, stretching out and developing to be capable of inhuman pitches; omegas can make a much wider range of sounds than betas and even alphas. My nose and sinuses ached as they adapted to be able to pick up pheromones and my head throbbed. The junction between my neck and shoulder was a constant agony as the scent gland developed to help me process pheromones and control my own; it finally kicked into action to regulate all of the ridiculous new functions my body was developing after a few days. In some ways this was great, because it meant I finally stopped constantly overheating and producing slick, something I’d already become disgusted and ashamed by, feeling like a snail sat in a puddle of slime constantly. In other ways it wasn’t, since it seemed to kick more processes into action, one of which was my canines becoming razor sharp and aching horrendously as I developed venom ducts.

At least it stopped me constantly keening. I kept expecting everyone to come tell me to shut the hell up, but my Mom just held my hand and Dan would sit and try to produce pheromones to help. The issue was he was a recessive alpha and I was a dominant omega, so even if he had been able to control them well (he really couldn’t, but at least he tried) they’d never have been enough to give me any real comfort.

Eventually it died down and around a week after I’d initially collapsed in a gross, slick mess I seemed to be relatively back to normal. I remember showering and staring in the mirror, confused that I basically looked just the same as before, just with creepy shimmering eyes.

That’s another similarity between male omegas and female alphas that people don’t seem to realize – that all the changes are basically on the inside. We both essentially look like betas naked and can even have sex with betas, we just can’t impregnate them. It’s only when we’re exposed to pheromones that we start to look a bit… freaky.

The question of what to do about me was now on everyone’s mind. My Mom and Dad were sat in the same room for the first time in years – Kevin had been banished to a motel for the duration of my presenting, as having a non-related alpha near an omega in that state was a terrible idea – whilst Dan and I sat on the sofa next to each other. He kept an arm constantly wrapped around me, something I should have found annoying, but was giving me a massive amount of comfort.

A commonly misunderstood thing about alphas and omegas is that people think they can only bond in a sexual way. This is actually completely incorrect and there’s a biological familial imperative as well. It’s unusual, but not unheard of, to have siblings who are alphas and omegas. When that happens the omega pheromones – even an omega in the throes of heat – don’t create any rut response from the alpha. And, conversely, alphas in rut don’t send related omegas into heat spirals. When the alpha is older than the omega the siblings almost always bond into a protective relationship, with the alpha as the omega’s caretaker. This only happens if neither parent is alpha, as usually they would take on this role.

It’s annoying as hell that my biology means that my bastard older brother was suddenly an equivalent of a massive guard dog, but it wasn’t his fault. I doubt he was overly pleased that his little nerd of a brother was suddenly the center of the world for his alpha.

Obviously, that bond isn’t like the mating bond and doesn’t ever get in the way of it. But it did mean that we both unconsciously reacted to the moods of the other, with Dan producing calming pheromones and me subconsciously making the weird crooning noises omegas make when alphas are stressed out. We both found it infuriating, but we were stuck with it. I was also pissed off that him just touching my shoulder should calm me down so much.

“We need to report it.”

My Dad said it tiredly, a miserable expression on his face.

“Like hell we do,” snarled Dan.

“It’s _dangerous_ for omegas, Dan, particularly dominant omegas. If he was outside and went into heat… he’d be injured, maybe even killed. And he’d be blamed for it, Dan.”

“That’s insane.”

“I’m not saying it’s right, it’s just… it’s just how it is. At the very least we need a doctor to look over him and estimate the time to his first heat.”

“They have… finishing schools for dominant omegas,” my Mom said quietly. “I’ve been looking it up.”

I stared at her in shock. “Finishing schools? What am I, a debutante? Am I expected to go to a cotillion next?”

“It’s supposed to be to prepare you for a match with a dominant alpha. Only… only the elite can afford the expected dowry for a dominant omega, so it’s supposed to help you acclimatize to that lifestyle.”

What the hell was going on? A fortnight ago I was on track to be a doctor, now I was apparently going to be sold to the highest bidder and have the life of some southern belle?

“Dowry?” Dan said quietly. “We’re not talking about selling Johnny off to the highest bidder.”

“Well, no, of course not.” Mom looked at me. “But that’s the best life for you, right? You’d be secure, well-looked after, _happy_. Don’t you want that?”

“No.” I replied.

“But omegas have no rights. I’ve been looking at it, darling, and… and it’ll be really difficult for you. It would be so much better for you to meet some nice alpha who can look after you.”

“No,” Dan and I growled in unison.

“Listen,” my Dad interrupted, a thoughtful expression on his face. “We know the kid’s going to be screwed over, right? So we minimize that as much as possible. From my understanding, the only thing that we legally need to do is report to a doctor that he’s presented. These finishing school things aren’t enforced, right?”

“No, it’s just… well, it’s just where they all go.”

“But we can request his high school keep him on?”

“Yes. It’s up to them if they allow that.”

“So, we ask. And if they say no then we threaten to kick up a fuss, sexual discrimination, yada yada.”

“But what if he’s not safe there?”

“I’ll be there, Mom,” Dan points out. She frowns at him.

“And what about when you graduate and go to college?”

“I think we all know I’m not going to college, Mom, Johnny’s the smart one, not me. So yeah, I’ll hang around for another couple years if necessary.”

“But what about college?” I asked, sadly. “Will I have to go to some omega-only college?”

“I’ve looked into that,” Dan was inexplicably grinning at me. “When an omega comes of age they’re still the responsibility of their family. Or, rather, they’re the responsibility of the alpha of the family.”

I stared at him in horror.

“Oh yeah, lil’ brother. You will absolutely _belong_ to me. But that means I can approve you going to college. The rules just say I need to see you every few months to make sure you’re not… I don’t know, running around naked and causing mass ruts.”

\- - - - -

Dan had knocked on my bedroom door that evening and slid into the room, leaning against the door.

“What is it?” I asked, looking at him balefully.

“Johnny, stop worrying. You stink and it’s distracting.”

“Sorry. I don’t seem to be able to make it stop. It’s just kinda… oozing out.”

“You’ll get a handle on it, you can control it after a while. What’s worrying you?”

I looked down at my hands, feeling bad for even voicing what I was scared of. “You know Mom said about getting together with a ‘nice alpha’ and all that dowry shit?”

“Yeah?”

“Well… Mom and Dad aren’t exactly loaded, right? What if they decide it’s best to sell me? I looked it up, dowries for dominant omegas are _huge_ , man. They’re even more for male dominant omegas, we’re super rare.”

“They won’t do that.”

“But what if they _do_? I’ve got no rights, dude, if they decided that I’d have no say in it at all.”

“Look, even if they chose to sell you then you wouldn’t be technically saleable until you came of age, right?”

“Right.”

“And who do you belong to when you come of age?”

“… oh.”

“Yeah, oh. Mom and Dad got no choice, lil’ brother. And nobody’s selling you. You’re my retirement plan.”

\- - - - -

Of course, everything changed after that. We tried putting contacts in my eyes to try to stop them looking so incredibly omegan, but apparently omega intraocular fluid dissolves contact lenses. Dominant alphas and omegas apparently generally have perfect vision, which is a pretty good thing if our eyeballs can melt corrective lenses…

I had to get permission to go back to high school. There was a fair bit of push back from the PTA, that I would put other kids off, that it would be difficult to explain to the other kids what had happened, that my pheromones would disrupt the alpha kids, etc. I remember even one of the arguments being that there was an alpha teacher and how was he supposed to teach a dominant omega?

The total lack of empathy was distressing. Nobody treated me like I was even human any more, that I had a right to an education, just that I could be a “distraction”. That it wasn’t up to anyone else to control their own impulses or curiosity or plain aggressiveness at someone different to them, it was up to me to hide myself away. There was even an argument that I shouldn’t come back because I might get bullied or attacked. Like it would be my fault.

The school eventually caved in, mainly because Dan furiously told them that he’d guarantee my safety, he’d fight any bastard alpha who tried to do anything to me – including the goddamn teachers – and that if they still said no when an alpha had pledged responsibility then he’d sue them for gender discrimination.

But obviously, it wasn’t the same. My group of nerdy friends no longer hung out with me, some making excuses and others simply ignoring me or hissing at me to stay the fuck away with my creepy eyes. I made them uncomfortable. I wanted to scream that it was still me, I was exactly the same person as before, I just.. it was just _biology_. But, of course, I didn’t. Screaming was _crude_. Plenty people started picking up on things I did before and labeling them as crude, that I shouldn’t be crude, I shouldn’t cuss, I shouldn’t yell, I should be quiet and demure. In angry retaliation I made sure I was as crude as possible around people who said shit like that.

No one beat me up any more or tried to cram me into lockers. Rather than lead a vendetta of torment against me, Dan now skulked in the corner of my vision, keeping an eye on me, _snarling_ at any of his alpha friends who looked like they were planning to do anything to me. It was weird, everything seemed to have just changed so completely overnight. Not just for me either, I usually felt horribly guilty as well that Dan’s final years in high school, when he should have been laughing at his geeky little brother, focusing on football and his exams (as much as he cared) and being prom king. Instead he was mainly hovering around a sad little omega in the library who was spending his time studying and trying to swallow down the embarrassing keening whines of loneliness and despair.

I saw that goddamn careers counselor again, who stared at me with barely disguised fascination.

“What are your plans now?”

I stared at him levelly. “The same as before.”

“I’m sorry to tell you this, John, but omegas don’t become doctors.”

“Yeah, well I’m gonna be one. I’m getting straight As across the board, there’s no reason I can’t be one.”

He’d frowned at me in confusion, then his face relaxed. “Ah, you mean you want to be a nurse?”

I was so surprised that my mouth fell open. The counselor then frowned, apparently talking more to himself than me “But then again, you get exposed to an awful lot of nastiness as a nurse. Blood, vomit, not really the sort of thing an omega can cope with…”

I don’t know what I found more offensive, the patronizing nature of what he was saying or the language he was using; “nastiness”, like I was a child.

“Excuse me,” I snapped at him and he looked back at me, apparently surprised to see me still there and not wandering off picking flowers or some shit like that. “I can cope fine with blood and other _bodily fluids_ thanks, you realize what omegas go through when they present, yeah?” A flicker of disgust ran across his face at that – I was being _crude_ again, ruining the magic of my flowering omegahood or whatever the fuck it was he’d been daydreaming about – which I ignored and continued my angry tirade at him. “I’m one of the smartest kids in this school and I don’t see any reason why omegas shouldn’t be doctors. Or, rather, if alphas can be doctors when they’re completely controlled by their pheromones and their fucking stupid knots, then omegas can be too. I’m _not_ stupid, I’m _not_ squeamish and I’m going to be a doctor.”

When this didn’t appear to have any reaction apart from him continuing to stare at me I stood up abruptly. “And I’m not listening to this shit.”

I pretended not to hear his muttered “rude little omega whore” as I stalked out.

\- - - - -

I hated the end of high school, but I was focused and diligent. I worked hard and tried my best to pretend that I was a normal kid, just unpopular. I took to wearing shades a lot in recess in the hope that people might forget about the whole omega shit.

Arguably, it could have been a lot worse. Apart from the occasional muttered comment – and the constant feeling of being unwelcome, something that even the parents and teachers contributed to – I was left alone. I’ve heard horror stories of recessive omegas being attacked in schools and they weren’t as highly visible as me. The school kept an eye on me after Dan left. I’d like to think that they were concerned, but I knew that in reality they were terrified of being sued by my parents if something as “valuable” as me was damaged.

Finishing my exams was such a relief. I was done, I’d done everything I could. And I had a small flicker of hope about college. None of the applications asked for your secondary gender. All they asked about was whether you wanted to apply specifically for alpha-only or omega-only accommodation. If you didn’t then they seemed to assume that you were beta.

So if I got good enough grades and got in then they wouldn’t know until I was there and they could hardly then say there’d been a mistake. That was discrimination again. I was smart enough to know that of course there was discrimination everywhere, but nobody liked to admit that. So there was a chance.

My relief was short-lived though. Just as the summer vacation began – five days after I finished my last exam – one of the worst things of my entire life happened. I had my first (and as it transpired, my only) heat.

\- - - - -

I kind of figured that something was wrong when I woke up that morning and the first thing I thought of was “I need to go see Dan. I need to go see Dan right now”.

I have never thought that in my life before. I’ve thought the opposite plenty.

Dan was living in the attic at this point, claiming it was his “bachelor pad”, despite Mom still doing laundry for him. He’d been working at the bar for around a year and was essentially nocturnal. I’d woken up at 8 and frowned. I shouldn’t go wake him.

“I need to go see Dan right now.”

I was muttering it under my breath, a constant low growl to myself. I felt weird, hot and leaden and tired. I staggered out of bed and started to head to the bathroom, but found myself drifting to the hatch up to the attic anyway. I frowned and then wondered if this was something to do with the weird sibling bond thing we had, that maybe Dan had become the victim of some tragic alpha masturbation escapade and had tried to knot the furniture and, in a helpless state, was calling me to free him. I’d feel shitty if my brother died from some terrible fapping accident because I decided to go shower instead of going to see him.

On climbing the ladder and sticking my head through the hatch I was relieved to see that Dan appeared to be asleep in bed and not skewering a chair. I dragged myself up onto the floorboards, wondering if I’d somehow put on about fifty pounds, feeling like I was made of lead. Having managed to get up there I sprawled briefly on the ground, enjoying how cold it was. I remember thinking that Dan must have the AC on at an icy setting, but not really caring as it felt good. I’d started drifting off to sleep again, sprawled on the floor, as much of my skin against it as possible and then jerked awake again. I kept staring at the hatch, some part of hind-brain niggling at me that I should do something to it. I closed my eyes again and then growled to myself and flailed a hand out to pull the bar across it that Dan had had fitted after Mom had walked in on him a few months ago with a girl.

Hind-brain apparently satisfied, I crashed back into sleep again.

\- - - - -

Dan later told me he’d woken up to a horrendous roaring noise from underneath the floor, the room swelteringly hot and a spicy smell mixed with a weirdly familiar pomegranate scent in the air. He was briefly convinced he’d died in his sleep and gone to hell.

He had staggered out of bed to investigate why Satan was bellowing underneath him and nearly tripped over me, where I was spread-eagled face down on the floorboards, looking like I was trying to make snow angels. He’d prodded me with his foot, relieved when I’d groaned at him in response to prove I hadn’t come up there to die and have Mom never forgive him. At my groan the roaring underneath us both stopped for a second and then returned with intensity.

Dan’s not stupid. I feel like I spend a lot of time defending Dan from people who assume Dan’s stupid, because he really isn’t, Dan’s actually really pretty smart. He’s just lazy. He was pretty stupid that morning, but that wasn’t his fault. All alphas get stupid when there’s that amount of omega pheromones in the air, even if there’s no biological urge to try to mate with the omega that’s inexplicably crawled up into your bedroom and then attempted to melt into your floor.

It was Dan’s alpha reactions that finally alerted him to the fact I’d gone into heat, that on finding his little brother on the floor his first urge had been to pick me up and put me into his bed rather than to shove my hand into a glass of water to see if it would make me pee myself. The furious snarls of Kevin downstairs and him determinedly trying to smash through what was basically an impenetrable hatch, completely ignoring our Mom’s terrified screams gave him a final prod that things were royally fucked.

“Oh shit,” he breathed.

\- - - - -

I woke up on and surrounded by something unbearably hot. Before I was even properly awake I was flailing around furiously, throwing whatever the fuck boiling hot shit was on me off and promptly rolling off the bed and onto the mercifully cool floor. I hit it pretty hard, but weirdly felt no pain, even as I felt my teeth jar sharply and blood well up from my tongue where I had somehow bitten it. My mouth felt too small for my teeth and I opened it, spitting out the blood and baring my teeth at the air, which weirdly gave some relief.

Everything was foggy and weird. I could hear yelling and snarling somewhere, but it seemed relatively unimportant compared to the odd sensation running through me. I felt… hungry. I frowned and opened my eyes, staring at the ceiling and wondering where the fuck I was. My brain was achingly slow at piecing things together and I finally realized that I was in the attic.

The hunger continued, getting worse every second. Only it wasn’t quite hunger, that wasn’t right. I tried to focus on it, assessing. No, it was more a kind of… aching, itchy emptiness. I felt strangely twitchy and turgid. I tried to sit up and was hit again with the leaden feeling of hot, exhaustion that felt like it was twisting through all my muscles like lactic acid. I flailed again and then froze when I felt hot viscous liquid pooling around my ass and down my thighs.

That was what awakened me to the horrible realization of what was happening to me.

“Noooononononono,” I whined to myself softly. I forced myself up, managing to drag myself onto my hands and knees and painstakingly crawl across the floor for a few feet before the exhaustion hit me again. I tried to stop myself from collapsing back onto the floor, simply resulting in my arms and legs slowly sliding out underneath me. My muscles were all spasming and twitching, feeling like it was taking a huge amount of effort to just stop my body from shattering, like if I wasn’t this tensed then my limbs would all just fall off.

I pressed my face against the floorboards and then, overtaken by a sudden weird urge, tried to bite the floor. I twisted my head to one side and then gouged at a board with one of my canines, resulting in a mouthful of splinters that I spat out distractedly. I tried rubbing my scent gland against the wood next, wrenching my neck at an abnormal angle. This didn’t help either, although I had no idea what I was trying to achieve. I twitched over onto my back and pressed the base of my skull against the floor. Nope, that wasn’t doing anything either.

Omegas do weird shit when we’re in early heat. We don’t have the stupid fangs that alphas are so proud of, but we do have sharp canines – technically a mating bond should have the omega bite right back, something a lot of alphas don’t allow – and when we’re in heat our canines get filled with the mating venom that we’re supposed to bite into our alpha with. It results in a weird, overlarge sensation in our teeth and I was presumably biting the floorboard in a dumb attempt to bond with it.

Dan still likes to point out the gouged floorboard to me and call it my first girlfriend, the bastard.

So, I can sort of understand what I was doing back then, but at the time it was utterly inexplicable. My thoughts were all sluggish and overheated, my mind and thought processes feeling fractured and tired. I kept doing things – often things that felt utterly weird – in an attempt to feel better, even though I couldn’t really quantify what the problem was. I just felt wrong and hot and tired and injuriously _empty._ Lying still was essentially impossible, so I kept weakly jerking around to try to do something, even if that only really ended up with my sprawling on my side and drooling mating venom onto the floor.

I knew I was in heat then and knew that was A Big Problem, but the full implications weren’t really there any more. Until I was in heat I really didn’t understand why people said omegas were stupid and impractical. Because when we’re in heat we are stupid and impractical. If an omega went into heat in a freeway we’d probably go lie in the middle of it because it felt cool. Our immediate environment almost becomes an afterthought, we just get so internally focused on what the fuck is happening to our bodies.

Or we do at the beginning of a heat. We get increasingly unaware of our surroundings until we’re deep into the heat and then we become completely focused _externally_ , because we suddenly snap out of groggy, hot and aroused dazed, confused, sweet little omega mode into a screaming, furious demon, determined to find an alpha to get rid of the terribly aching hollow sensation.

Or I do, anyway.

\- - - - -

My first heat was abnormally fast. The night before I’d been fine, although admittedly tired. At 0800 I had been in early heat and my omega hind-brain had prodded me awake to get me to a safe environment. At 1000 when Dan woke up I was midway through the early stages of heat, already with a mouthful of venom and burning up, releasing huge amounts of pheromones to try to attract an alpha to knot me. By 1200 when I had woken up and Dan was snarling and desperately trying to keep Kevin at bay I was nearly peaking and about to hit what Dan later referred to as “atomic omega”.

Usually early heat lasts a day, if not two. But apparently after presenting late my body had decided to ace it’s first heat and turbo-charged me through it.

\- - - - -

Dan asked me afterwards about what I remembered about “atomic omega”. I lied. I said I couldn’t really remember it.

Once an omega has completed early heat they go into a full heat. Most omegas – particularly most dominant omegas – have a partner by their first heat to help them through it. I didn’t, obviously. I don’t know if this was why I was so utterly insane, but suspect not. Male dominant omegas are so rare nobody’s really researched it, but I definitely read case studies later that said that my experience wasn’t that unusual. As it turns out, male dominant omegas are pretty similar to male dominant alphas. Once we get into a state we become utterly embarrassing.

So I lied to Dan and said I sort of remembered bits and pieces, putting on a pretense that it wasn’t really me. I remember it all. And I know it _was_ actually me, just a part of me I really don’t want to think about. I had absolutely no reasoning, no sense, no anything, entirely driven by my urges and needs. To be fair to me, those were so strong by that point that even with supernatural levels of self-control I wouldn’t have been able to resist.

\- - - - -

My eyes snapped open. It must have been a few hours since I’d been lying on the floor, trying to bite it and pathetically whimpering to myself. I no longer felt hot or groggy or confused. I stretched and sat up, no lingering lethargy in my limbs. The snarls and growls underneath me were continuing and I gave them an annoyed glance.

I seemed lucid, but the calculating, smart, _human_ part of my brain seemed to have been shoved to the back of my mind. I stretched luxuriously again, feeling slick trickle down by thighs.

 _You should be embarrassed by that_ said the stupid buttoned up part of me. I ignored it. Why should I be embarrassed? I was glorious.

For the first time in my life I was completely in control of the pheromones. I practically exhaled a wash of them, alerting any nearby alphas that I was ready for them and then sprawled languidly, waiting. I was expecting… well, a herd of potential suitors. After a few minutes I frowned.

Something was wrong. Where were they?

I looked around and realized with a sudden jolt that I was in a wooden cage. In my right mind I’d obviously know exactly where the exit was, but this simply didn’t compute to my omega, who was now in total control of me. There was no visible exit, so there was no exit.

I snarled softly. Then dismissed it. They should be able to smash through this wood, maybe they just hadn’t picked up the first wave. I twisted my neck and closed my eyes, releasing another wave of pheromones.

When nobody came the second time I was abruptly overtaken by violent fury.

That’s not just a phrase. I started to cry out, a long undulating noise, before pacing around and then slamming myself into various walls, trying to get the hell out, because I just needed to let them know where I was, then they’d come get me. When they still didn’t I wailed angrily at the wall.

I took a deep breath and noticed that the bed in the corner smelt like alpha. I stalked over to examine it, to see if there was some alpha that inexplicably was hiding there rather than approaching me. There wasn’t, it was just a bed.

I’m not an aggressive person, which is why I think my first heat traumatized me so much. Because when I discovered the bed was empty (and I checked, I even looked underneath it) I smashed it to pieces in misery and anger. At the time, in my head, it was completely justified and I didn’t even identify my behavior as utterly illogical. The disappointment was so intense it made it hard to breathe. So I viciously attacked the bed, kicking it, clawing it, punching it, leaving smears of my blood and slick all over it. Once I’d destroyed the frame I ripped the mattress into pieces, clawing and biting into it, strewing the fluffy stuffing all over the place. Then I gutted the pillows and duvet. In my anger I even tried to eat the goose down, choking slightly on it, spitting it back out and yowling my fury out again.

Because _how fucking dare_ any bastard alpha refuse me? I was powerful, I was desirable, where the hell were they, they should be queuing up, they should be _forming a fucking line_ and posturing to demonstrate their genetic worthiness. I drew my lips back from my canines and screamed my rage into the floor, clawing and then slamming my forehead into it. Distantly I heard my Mom start to sob underneath me and I screamed at her too, snarling at her for locking me up in here. Fucking _beta_ , fucking stupid, weirdly scentless plastic woman. I roared and heard both alphas downstairs shut up.

Good, stupid fucking alphas. I inhaled sharply and then dismissed them both, one was just completely unacceptable, no more a prospective mate than that fucking bed I just ripped apart. Unthinkable. The other was some piss-poor recessive. Absolutely not.

I burned inside and rocked back onto my heels, screaming up into the ceiling. When this didn’t appear to achieve anything I started pacing the room, desperately searching for an escape. When this also didn’t help I started to run into the walls. On my fifth run up I knocked myself out cold. I woke up, my head somehow still not hurting, blinking blood out of my eyes. I sat up, dizzy and feeling the floor shifting crazily under me, but mainly still focused on the utterly wrong empty sensation inside me.

I threw back my head and started to howl. I kept going for some time.

\- - - - -

Dan told me afterwards that nothing would make Kevin back the hell off. Dan was younger and stronger and resolutely blocking the way, but Kevin still kept trying to pass him. My Mom telling him to stop, threatening to throw him out, sobbing at him to stop it, none of it seemed to make any difference. He just kept snarling and growling at Dan, telling him that someone needed to help me, that it was cruel to do this to me.

I’d have been flattered, but pretty sure Kevin found me an annoyance at best most of the time and actively disliked me otherwise. He was just one of those shitty alphas who couldn’t control himself.

The thing that actually finally seemed to get him to snap out of it was when I flipped out and started to roar and scream. Kevin’s alpha suddenly realized that this wasn’t some little swooning omega up there, panting and presenting. Dan was apparently quite tempted to let him go up then as he was pretty sure I would have shredded him to pieces. Then kicked the slushy remains around and splashed about in them like a kid in a puddle.

A gruesome, gruesome puddle.

I’m ashamed of how I was then, but Dan’s always been weirdly proud of it. Once I’d knocked myself out and then started howling he was relatively confident that Kevin would stay the hell away and came back up into the attic. I had rolled my crazy, glowing eyes over to him, apparently dismissed him entirely and continued stalking around, screaming and howling, occasionally throwing myself into the walls. I was, by this point, covered in blood, heavily limping and constantly drooling slick, ignoring all of this, entirely powered by huge amounts of omega pheromones and utter fury.

Dan thought this was the most badass thing I’d ever done in my life. If he had to have an omega little brother then he was glad he had a batshit crazy, twitching renegade omega little brother who appeared to want to bite the world. Then mate with it.

I do have difficulty remembering what happened after that, but that’s mainly because it was so monotonous. I spent about 24 hours solidly attempting to escape, screaming and howling. My repeated tests that the walls were indeed solid apparently never quite convinced me that one particularly hard push wouldn’t knock them over. I knocked myself out another couple times and then dislocated my shoulder. This eventually made me reassess, then I sat in the middle of the room and shrieked.

This was with a constant undercurrent of a deep, itching, burning sensation that I needed to be _filled up_. That I was a void and needed, desperately needed, to not have that any more. When not screaming or howling I was constantly snarling or growling to myself that I needed an alpha, a fucking good alpha, a fucking _worthy_ alpha.

I’m quite surprised my omega is so picky, if I’m honest. I’m not exactly known for that. If I had been presented with anything other than a dominant alpha – and one I was actually interested in – then I probably would have treated them like I’d treated the bed, to be frank.

That really worries me. Omegas aren’t supposed to be like that, we’re supposed to be pathetically grateful for any alpha cock when we’re in heat. Trust me to be some fucked up, backwards omega.

Dan told me that after trying to dissuade me from smashing myself into various walls he’d gone back downstairs because he didn’t seem to be making much impact and Mom was utterly beside herself by this point. He’d tried to reassure her that it was alright, it would be over soon, I was going through a really quick, violent heat and I hadn’t done myself any lasting damage.

At this point Kevin had _insisted_ that he be allowed to go and help me through it, because “the poor little omega’s suffering, this is just cruel on it”.

I’m not sure what hurt Mom more, that her husband had basically said he was going to essentially rape her son to “get him through” something or the fact he referred to me as an “it”, something alphas have a distressing tendency to do about omegas. Like our primary genders are irrelevant, like we’re only categorized by our secondary genders.

It was Mom – not Dan – who threw Kevin out the house. She never saw him again, she served him divorce papers in some shitty motel he moved into as he pleaded for her to take him back.

I hated my first heat for many reasons. The fact it destroyed the first relationship since Dad that seemed to really make Mom happy was a pretty major one.

Mom then went out and bought an omegan heat reliever. If you’re wondering what that is, then it’s essentially a fucking massive dildo on a suction cup and a hell of a lot of dominant alpha mating pheromones in a spray can. Dan dragged it up to the attic and attached it to a wall, grabbing hold of me and then seizing my chin to point my face at it, since I had been trying to bite his shirt at the time.

“Hey, Johnny, you see that?”

I had looked at it blankly. “Yeah.”

“That’ll help.”

He’d released me, watching me limp over to it and study it for a while. I’d then kicked it repeatedly. Then I tried to rip it off the wall with my teeth.

Even him spraying the pheromones on it didn’t seem to really trigger much of a response, with me just staring around desperately, trying to find the alpha.

“No, Johnny, look, just use _that_.”

He’d gently shoved me towards it and I’d snarled at it and then punched it.

“Jesus, Johnny, I feel sorry for the poor alpha you eventually do mate with.”

He’d sprayed a shit load more of pheromones on it and then rapidly retreated when he saw an eventual dawning recognition in my expression about it.

\- - - - -

I was in full heat for around 24 hours, a large section of that spent dashing myself of various walls. After I wrecked my Mom’s marriage and then fucked myself silly on an impersonal heat aid I entered the final stage of heat. Omegas get particularly weird at this point. We have a strong nesting urge, so I turned Dan’s decimated bed into a fluffy, curled swirl of material and kicked off the shredded remainder of my clothing to coil myself into it.

I slept for around 18 hours, Dan occasionally coming up to check on me, my temperature steadily declining. When I woke up I was pretty much myself again. And in agony.

Apparently there’s usually a slow “reclaiming” of yourself when you come out of heat, but I was unconscious at the time. So I basically went from “insane sexual predator” straight back to me. Me in a shit-load of pain.

My Mom and brother were made aware of my regaining conscious by my pained yell. Both had run up to the attic to see me trying not to sob with the pain as all the horrendous injuries I’d inflicted on myself made themselves known. My Mom had called the family doctor whilst Dan had held me and released soothing alpha pheromones, trying to calm me down. Apparently still slightly heat-ish, I had released a load of pheromones back, which had nearly made him faint.

This is the basic imbalance between a dominant and a recessive, if you’re wondering. Dominants, whether they’re alpha or omega, have incredibly strong pheromones. If we react automatically as dominants we inevitably overdo it. Only a dominant can truly withstand – or indeed be satisfied by – another dominant. Which is why the acute imbalance of dominant alphas and omegas is so cruel. It’s why alphas get pissed at omegas like me that try to hide our secondary gender. The ratio's already skewed against alphas, "you’re making it worse".

Obviously, that’s not saying that you can’t have fulfilling relationships outside of that, just the unthinking reaction will inevitably be pretty unpleasant for the recessive.

The family doctor was Doctor Brahms. He had confirmed my dominant omega status and been relatively supportive of my trying to continue at high school (not actively trying to dissuade me counted as a positive move). He was a beta and so not against an emergency house-call to an insane, pained, post-heat omega. He’d sighed when he’d seen me and crouched down by my makeshift nest.

“I was worried about this, John. This is why… well, why it might be best if you reconsidered being so against finding a mate.”

I keened to myself and ignored him, too miserable to care that I was making another embarrassing omegan noise. He set my arm back into place as I hissed and growled. Then he bandaged me up as best as possible and passed Dan some painkillers.

“He’ll be sore but there’s no lasting damage. You need to find him someone to help him through the next one, dominant omegas aren’t made to just go through a heat alone. He could have died. It’s very dangerous for them, considerably more so than for a recessive omega.”

“When’s the next one likely to be?”

“Three months.”

I’d made a choked noise of horror. In three months I was supposed to be going to college, not doing this _again_. And what, doing this every three months for the next… what, thirty years? No. No way.

“No,” I choked out.

They all looked at me, likely because this was the first intelligible thing I’d said in about 48 hours.

“No what, lil’ brother?” Dan asked me softly.

“No… I can’t do that again. I can’t, Dan. Not every three months. I’ve been researching it,” I look at Doctor Brahms. “There’s inhibitors, right? I read about that, there’s inhibitors for dominant omegas. It makes us like betas.”

“Yesssss,” Brahms had replied carefully. “But those are… well, they’re expensive. And not easily available.”

“What do you mean?” Dan snapped. Brahms shrugged, an apologetic look on his face.

“The inhibitors are created by alpha-owned pharmaceutical companies. They took control of them all to limit their supply. They can only be prescribed to omegas who are at medical risk if their omegan pheromones and biologies are left without treatment.”

“Doctor, my little brother dislocated his arm and smashed himself into the walls and floor repeatedly during his heat. You can’t say he _isn’t_ at medical risk without inhibitors.”

“He wouldn’t be at risk if you paired him up with an alpha.”

“Well, let’s say I’m going to exercise my _god-given_ alpha right to be a total dick and decide I want the omega under my care to remain a virgin. Which I believe I am allowed to do, as an alpha dick. At which point, he’s in danger, right?”

“Yes. I would be able to prescribe the medication under those conditions. But the cost is still… significant.”

“How significant?”

“Eight thousand dollars for a six month supply.”

I choked. We didn’t have that kind of money. We just didn’t-

“I’ll get it,” Dan said calmly. “Just write the prescription, doc.”

“Dan…”

“Shh, Johnny. I’ll do extra shifts at the bar and sell my car. Don’t worry, I can scrape enough together for the first six months. And then, ‘cos you’re such a smart little omega bastard, you’ll be able to use your scholarship to get the rest.”

\- - - - -

I actually did get a scholarship. I got straight As across the board. I tried to pay Dan back from my first payment and he refused.

“Nah, lil’ brother. I wanna keep that one in the bank, I’ll charge you interest later.”

The inhibitors were… wonderful. After getting the prescription from Brahms, Dan had been conspicuously absent for a few hours, likely trying to drag as much money out of this employers and friends as possible. He then reappeared, clutching a brown paper bag.

“I’m gonna miss your creepy eyes, Johnny.”

I’d looked at him, confused. “What?”

“This stuff… it totally freezes up your scent gland, stops the pheromones. You’ll look like a beta again.”

I felt a spike of relief. “So… people won’t realize?”

“Nah. Even a dominant alpha won’t be able to smell you.” He grinned at me.

Before my heat I’d been determined to show everyone that an omega could do anything, could be a doctor. But that heat had changed my mind. And I was tired, tired of trying to get over first impressions and assumptions. I was being given the chance of a disguise, something that would let me become anonymous again, would maybe even take me back to the time before I’d presented. Not being _popular_ , but not being universally shunned.

I knew I shouldn’t be so relieved, that it was weak. But I was so _so_ relieved. It was for medical reasons, I pointed out to myself. Nothing to do with my being a coward.

Dan showed me what looked like an impossibly large syringe. “You need to inject yourself at the junction between your neck and your shoulder – just below your scent gland. You do that every fortnight. And you take a pill every day. At the same time, Johnny, you have to make sure it’s at the same time.”

“And… and it stops me being omega?”

“It… it stops you going into heat and reduces the visible omegan signs. You'll still be an omega, just other people won't be able to tell and you won't go through heats. You’ll still be able to smell pheromones, but not secrete them. And it doesn’t stop any of the automatic responses, the whines, the noises. You need to be careful to control that, Johnny, otherwise…”

I nodded quickly, reaching for the syringe. Dan swatted my hand away. “No, you can barely move. I’ll do this, just relax.”

“But you’re-“

He suddenly snapped at me, an alpha snarl lacing through his words. “Johnny, I know you think I’m a loser, but I’ll still do this better than you.”

I automatically rolled onto my back and bared my neck, a supplicant gesture. A soft whine escaped me and he sighed and stroked my hair softly.

“Sorry… sorry. But please, I’m… this thing we have, if I can’t help you then it really… distresses me. Stop that.” He flicked a finger under my jaw to try to stop me from making the submissive gesture and I yelped slightly.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured. “I guess these last few days have been hard?”

“Understatement, Johnny. Stop being such an _omega_ and talking about your feelings, just move your head.”

He was surprisingly quick and efficient as he injected the inhibitor into me. It felt cool and soothing in my veins and I almost immediately started to drift off.

“No no no, take this first.”

I swallowed the pill and collapsed back, falling deeply asleep.

\- - - - -

When I woke up I felt normal for the first time in years. My eyesight seemed slightly less focused than before and I ached still, but I felt… good.

Seeing myself without the vivid, nearly glowing sapphire eyes after over two years was weird to begin with. But I didn’t care. I wanted to forget I was an omega, forget all that shit, to only be reminded every day at 2100 when my watch bleeped to remind me to take the pills, and to inject myself once a fortnight. I even convinced myself, my claims that I needed the pills because I had low blood pressure being my standard defense if ever asked.

So I went to college as a beta. And, despite my roommate and then best friend being an alpha – a _dominant_ alpha at that – nobody ever suspected I was anything but a beta. I didn’t even have to lie. Nothing ever asked you what you were and so, if you didn’t volunteer it, then it was assumed that you were a beta. It actually got even easier once I was on the medical track, because omegas simply didn’t study it. So there was no suggestion whatsoever that I wasn’t a beta.

I wasn’t being untruthful, I told myself. Or cowardly. How would it help other omegas for me to be open about that? Don’t ask, don’t tell.

Dan and I made sure we stuck to the rules though. He visited me at college, appearing to be an annoying older brother who kept stealing my beta girlfriends. But in reality we were keeping to the guidelines, that my “responsible alpha” was checking on me. And honestly, him screwing my girlfriends helped.

Don’t get me wrong or believe that alpha propaganda. An omega male can absolutely have sex with a beta woman. Our biology is basically beta as long as there’s no pheromones involved; so no sex with alphas or omegas, that’d screw the inhibitors and I’d end up showing my omegan biology and probably go into heat if it knocked the inhibitors out. Also if I tried to have sex with a guy I might have produced slick, either way would be a potential danger.

I enjoyed having sex with beta girls, it was sexy and hot and they were pretty. But I knew there was no future with them, I knew that I’d inevitably fall in love with them and then have to tell them (and that would be _so_ disappointing for them) and best case they’d leave me or worst case they’d tell everyone. So Dan luring them away really helped. I came across as a bit of a loser, sure, but I’d rather seem to be a commitment-phobic dick than be outed as an omega.

After being on the inhibitors for three years I was advised by Doctor Brahms to have a heat and then go back onto them. I didn’t.

I told myself it was because of finals or difficulties of where to go to have my heat or fear of hurting myself or… well, the excuses could keep going, really. I was in denial. I was a beta, not an omega, betas didn’t have heats. I was lying so well that I believed it myself. I bought a months’ worth of suppressants off the black market, told Brahms I’d gone through my heat (“so much better this time, thank you”) and carried on. By the next three year marker I was at Sacred Heart and could get hold of my own drugs, _thank you very much, Doctor Brahms_.

My crowning achievement was Doctor Cox calling me girls’ names. I know that sounds ridiculous, but he would never have done that to anyone he even slightly suspected of being an omega. And he was a _very_ dominant alpha. If I could fool him then I could fool anyone.

My weird fascination with him and wanting to trail around the hospital after him bothered me slightly. I told myself it was because he was a good doctor, that I wanted to be like him, coming up with increasingly desperate reasons for it. Turk once told me “dude, you’re like a lovesick omega with him”, which had given me the chills. Fortunately Carla had given Turk a look of utter disdain when he said that, so he promptly forgot about it as he tried to apologize.

I’d never really encountered many omegas before. I had initially thought Carla and I had a good relationship, had even occasionally fantasized that I’d be able to tell her and she’d offer support and kindness and empathy. But her attitude had jarred me a few times. Carla was a recessive omega (or beta dominant omega, she used either terminology) and was proud of this. She’d throw it in the faces of alphas and betas; “ _you don’t know what it’s like, you don’t understand my struggles_ ”. She had a point, alphas and betas don’t really understand that. But it set my teeth on edge, the arrogance of it. It was hard being a recessive omega, but it wasn’t the hardest thing to be. Recessive omegas could live normal lives, albeit at a significant societal disadvantage. They didn’t have to hide who they were just to try to live without being attacked.

Also, masquerading as a beta had given me a lot of sympathy for them. Alphas obviously had the advantage, but all omegas, recessive or not, if they chose to, could relatively easily attach themselves to an alpha and give themselves a pretty easy life. It wasn’t right, of course, not at all. And omegas shouldn’t even have to consider it. But betas didn’t have those options. Betas were overlooked and ignored, even when they were making genuinely ground-breaking contributions to society. And betas were the largest population and seemed to be ignored the most. Just because they didn’t have stupid pheromones.

And as I’ve already said, I think female alphas maybe have it as bad as male omegas. So I had limited sympathy for Carla and her tendency to throw my “privilege” in my face, particularly since she was actually more privileged than me. This eventually boiled over when we went to an art exhibit together and I’d rather bluntly asked her why she hadn’t trained to be a doctor – an entirely innocent question, she would have been able to do so, as a recessive omega, it would have been hard and difficult but not almost impossible like it would have been for me. And what I’d meant to be a compliment, an admiration had been misinterpreted and thrown back at me.

Carla was standing in the rain, her mascara running, glaring at me. “For the first time, Bambi, _for the first time in my life_ you made me ashamed to be an omega.”

I’d tried to apologize, tried to make her understand and she’d snarled back that “ _a beta like you wouldn’t understand how difficult it is for an omega_ ” and left me standing in the pouring rain. I’d half congratulated myself that my acting was now so good that I came across as a crass, unsympathetic beta. But it made me miserable. I was hiding who I was. I was buying into all the shit that omegas couldn’t be doctors.

Of course, I’d never have gotten where I was if I hadn’t hidden my omegan status. But still… I felt like a fraud. People like Carla were making a stand and what was I doing?

Elliot made me feel bad too. When I met her I was delighted; she was a perfect beta girlfriend. Pretty, funny and someone I genuinely enjoyed spending time with. But the more we dated the more I felt terrible about it, because I really did like her. I really did value her and she deserved better than me. And Elliot wanted kids, she told me as much. And, obviously, omegan males can’t impregnate anyone.

I’d briefly considered telling her, thinking that maybe we’d really fall in love and we could… oh, I don’t know, find a sperm donor or something if it got to that stage. But the terror that she’d tell other people in the hospital, that she’d expose me… well, I wasn’t completely in love with her. Better to push her away and have her find someone better.

I’m a coward. Believe me, I know I’m a coward. Sometimes I wonder whether I should have just sold myself to the highest bidder. My Dad wouldn’t have worked himself to death then, my Mom and Dan would live in luxury and I wouldn’t be feeling shitty about how cowardly I am. But, to be honest, doing that seems even more cowardly than what I’m doing now. I’m an omegan trail blazer. The fact no one realizes it is unfortunate, but meh. I guess I maybe planned to keep it secret until I retired and then reveal it with an accompanying “fuck you, fuckers”.

But I’d worked at Sacred Heart for over four years and no one had suspected a thing. Nothing. Nada. Until I got soaked in fucking omegan pheromones and then all those alphas went crazy and… and, oh shit, I can smell Doctor Cox, ohhh, oh shit shit shitshitshitshit, the game’s up, the game’s fucking up, I’m _dead_. I’m a stupid little dead omega and I deserve nothing more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so a couple things:
> 
> 1\. If you've read my stuff before then this chapter will likely feel slightly longer than my standard chapters. My Unorthodox Treatment (MUT, love that with the A/B/O stuff) will have this sort of length chapters as standard as it'll move at a quicker pace and be probably a fair bit wordier than MCA. MUT-verse feels somehow bigger than MCA-verse. Also, it's not winter, it's spring here, yay.
> 
> 2\. To be clear, JD does identify as an omega, he just doesn't want to be treated the way omegas are treated and doesn't want to fit into some box he doesn't agree with. It could be an analogy of people not wanting to be pigeon-holed or treated in a specific way based on societal expectations etc. etc. but is more just... y'know, a story. Some of this stuff is partially inspired by comments I've had about how I should act or be or comments I've overheard directed at people who don't allow themselves to be dictated how to act by society. Some is plain invention and isn't making any particular statement about anything. But just to be clear.


	4. 04. My Unconventional Partnership

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, wow. Thank you so much for all the comments and kudos, it's so gratifying to know people are enjoying this. It's definitely very motivating and lovely to hear, so I'm very grateful for you taking the time to do that. Please do keep them coming! 😃
> 
> Anyway, after leaving a cliffhanger and then spending an entire chapter gibbering on about JD’s back story, we’re back on the roof. I hope you enjoy!

**My Unorthodox Treatment**

**by RumCove**

**My Unconventional Partnership**

Disclaimer: Scrubs original characters belong to Bill Lawrence and NBC/ABC/Doozer Productions etc. Basically, not owned by me. I own the original characters in this work.

What the absolute hell is going on?

This is a joke, right? This is a joke, he’s put in some contact lenses and doused himself in that omega perfume that those betas use when they do marches supporting omegas. It’s a joke on ol' Doctor Cox, obviously, something the residents have been planning. Gandhi’s going to jump out with a camera in a minute and yell “punk’d” or some bullshit like that.

Only I already know it really isn’t. There’s no manufactured element to that scent, that’s pure dominant omega. And it kind of makes sense in a way, that girly personality, the empathy, the useless daydreaming and the way I’ve very occasionally seen him react to strong pheromones. I’d assumed he was one of those rare betas who can sometimes pick up on them and didn’t mention it, they get embarrassed about things like that.

Oh Jesus, I called him girls’ names, I’ve shoved him around, I constantly invade his personal space and berate him, all things that upset omegas. Oh shit, shit, I’m a monster, oh – oh, actually, no, screw it, he hid it, he can’t complain, it’s not my fault. You can’t go around pretending to be a beta and then cry when people treat you like one.

Although he’s not actually crying, after staring at me for a second in abject misery he’s slammed his eyes back shut and has resumed panting to himself. I frown. How _the hell_ has he managed to do this? Why’s he running around out here on his own, where’s his guardian, how the fuck has he managed to hide it long enough to graduate goddamn medical school and complete a residency?

My thoughts are interrupted by another wave of pheromones. Okay, so yeah, they’re definitely different from the kid in the ER. Omegas generally smell like flowers or fruits, things that alphas usually go all gooey over, about how lovely and _perfumed_ the fucking omegas are. The kid in the ER smelt like roses. And Newbie, apparently, smells like pomegranates, a sweet overlay with a slightly sharp, woody, bitter undercurrent.

I realize all his girly hair care products and everything else smell like pomegranate. Little bastard knows and was covering himself if he slipped up with his inhibitors. They’re supposed to be dumb and impractical and air headed, not manipulative little sneaky weasels.

More troubling than the pomegranate smell though is the metallic tang alongside it. That smells like distress and – I pause and inhale again carefully – and an unmistakable peppery aroma, cocooned within the tinny scent. Impending heat.

Now _that_ is bad. It’s only weak, but it’s there. Right, first things first.

I stand up and quickly stalk over to the roof door, locking it. If any fucking alphas get a whiff of this then they’ll be charging up here and I don’t have a hope of keeping them at bay if there’s a load of them, however much I work out.

“Oh, shit, oh no, please…”

His eyes are open again and he’s staring at me in horror, edging backwards, a sudden, raw smell of terror in the air that makes the distressed pheromones seem mild in comparison. I’m briefly floored by the eyes – fucking alpha hormones, they’re just eyes for God’s sake – and then frown at him.

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Stephanie. I’m just trying to make sure that a less impressive alpha doesn’t come through here and lose his shit. I’m not going to do anything to you.”

He gives me a mistrustful glance in response, which I can’t exactly blame him for. I know I’m already secreting a load of fucking alpha mating pheromones, but I can’t really help that. I’m not going to act on the damn things.

I prowl back over to him and crouch down next to him.

“So, what exactly were you planning on doing up here?”

“I thought that maybe if I got some air and cleared out the pheromones from my system the inhibitors would start working again.”

“And how’s that working for you?”

“Not well.”

“Big surprise, Newbie, you’re soaked in blood and pheromones. I mean, are you a _complete_ moron? You’re just marinating in the damn stuff.”

“I was more concerned about getting away from the alpha pheromones than the omega ones. You guys stink.”

I ignore the jibe. I mean, we do.

“Yeah, well you smell like an interesting pomegranate-rose hybrid right now, so you can’t comment. And heat, you realize that, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says miserably.

“Are.. are you _due_ to be on heat?”

But wait, that makes no sense, right? Omegas in heat usually need around a week off and he’s never taken more than a couple days off in over four years. Not that I keep a track of that or anything.

“No. But if we come off inhibitors it can knock us into one.”

I sigh. “Great. That’s just _great_ , Newbie, what the fuck have you been thinking?”

I don’t really expect a response to that, so am quite surprised by his vehement “I’ve been thinking that I’m a good fucking doctor and it shouldn’t matter about this shit. I’ve kept it well managed, nobody’s even suspected anything until now. Even you venerated dominant alphas.”

“Well, gee whiz Rosie, I’d love to debate societal gender issues with you on this roof, but how’s about we do something practical, hey? What inhibitors are you on?”

He gives me a sulky look. “I take 10mg of hydreastarneite every day and fortnightly shots of 200mg rhysolxin cypionate.”

“Right. You stay here and take your goddamn scrubs off to slow your heat down and I’ll go get that.”

He stares at me. “Are you crazy? You want an omega going into heat to sit around naked with no chaperone?”

“Fair enough. Try not to breathe then. I’ll lock the door behind me, don’t let anyone in.”

He gives me a tired smile. “Not like I’m in a position to, even if I wanted to. Thanks Doctor Cox.”

\- - - - -

Right, focus on doing something practical, not the constant queries in my head about what the actual hell Newbie was thinking. Definitely ignore my stupid alpha, which is asking why I’m wandering around a hospital when there’s a distressed omega on the roof, telling me to go back up there and protect him.

Yeah, great, and then what happens when he goes into heat?

My alpha bares his fangs and grins at me.

Fuck’s sake. This is why I hate this shit. I hate alphas who can’t control themselves, I resent omegas having that sort of ability to utterly wreck us and I absolutely hate betas who don’t have to deal with any of this shit. We should all just be chemically castrated at birth and let this sorry joke of a human race die out.

All bullshit really, which you can easily tell by the fact I’m a doctor, which is rather counter to any aspirations to destroy everybody on earth.

I’m getting a few looks from other alphas – I’m currently a cocktail of angry alpha, distressed omega and a load of rutting pheromones which I’m managing to keep in check. Fortunately as a dominant alpha my glaring at them generally results in them backing down, although that ridiculous jock surgeon The Todd cheerfully congratulates me for getting my “alpha bone on”.

“Shut up,” I snarl at him.

“What, dude? It’s natural.”

I pull to a twitchy halt and narrow my eyes at him. “Just ‘cos something’s natural doesn’t mean it should be applauded, Captain Charisma. Hell, half the shit we treat here is _natural_ , doesn’t make it right. Cancer’s fucking natural. Medicine's _unnatural_ , when it comes down to it.”

He shrugs. “C’mon, man.”

“Stupid recessive bastard.” I growl at him.

I don’t normally act like this, I don’t normally even consider using anyone’s gender as a slur, but it’s frustrating as hell. Half those recessive bastards were in the ER and causing a fuss and they’re not anywhere near as badly affected by the omega pheromones as we are. It pisses me off.

Also, this genius was one of the ones who went for JD when he was trying to save that girl. No excuse, no excuse for that. For not controlling yourself or for attacking an omega. Even - even if you didn't know he was an omega, even if I'd just shoved him a few minutes previously, even-

I shake my head slightly to clear it and Gandhi gives me a worried look. “You alright? You’re looking… rutty.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Fine. I’m fine. It’s under control.”

“Why’s he so much worse than you, dude?”

Gandhi glares at his fellow surgeon. “I’m bonded, you idiot. He isn’t. Pheromones don’t affect bonded alphas or omegas so badly, particularly dominants.”

“What? But he was married.”

“You can be married and not bonded,” I snap, not wanting to get into this shit right now. “I’m just going to-“ I nearly say “the roof”, my fucking alpha repeating a litany that that’s where I should be right now and nearly winning “-to the pharmacy.”

“Yeah, good idea man. Get one of those nasal spray things, should help.”

Actually, I hadn’t thought of that, but it’s a good excuse. And probably a good idea, they can pull you back from rut. I nod and stalk off again, hearing a continued conversation behind me.

“How do you know he’s not bonded?”

“Because he doesn’t _smell_ bonded. You should be able to tell that, what’s wrong with your nose? Also, you’ve met Jordan, right? She’s an alpha, two alphas can’t bond.”

I growl to myself.

\- - - - -

“We’ll have to make these up, we don’t have a ready stock of them.”

I bite back another growl. “Why not? I thought we had a load of inhibitors in case of ruts and heats.”

“We do – for dominant alphas and recessive alphas and omegas. We don’t keep a stock of dominant omega inhibitors, they’d just decay.”

She’s giving me an odd look. Great, thanks for warning me these were specialized dominant omega inhibitors Sandra, you idiot.

“Yeah, well, maybe we should have some just in case. I guess you heard about what happened?”

The beta pharmacist nods eagerly, her eyes lighting up at the gossip. “I heard. Never thought we’d see one, right?” At my expression she looks contrite and adds unconvincingly “poor little thing”.

I wonder what she’d do if I told her that she probably saw one most days, he just hid it. Instead I half shrug. “Yeah. So get a stock ready and I’ll take some for… uh, for emergencies.”

“Sure. Is this linked to her? Are her family coming in, will they be them too? Getting upset can send them into heat, right? Good idea about having some of these in case.”

Her prattling on about someone who just died in morbid fascination is bothering me, but I need to keep her onside. “Sure. No guarantee her family are though, it doesn’t seem to quite work like that. How long will it take?”

She frowns. “Is there any urgency?”

“Not hugely, just I wanted to have something ready and I clock off soon.” Actually, I clocked off about an hour ago, but that’s not exactly unusual. I give her my best charming alpha grin. “So if you’d be a doll and get those ready then that’d save me a headache.”

She beams back, practically fawning at me. “Sure Doctor Cox. They’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

I hate biology, but it works in my favor sometimes.

\- - - - -

I spend the ten minutes tracking down some new scrubs for Newbie and then grab some spare underwear and a top from my locker. They’ll be too big for him, but the little bastard better be grateful. I then collect the meds and a couple alpha nasal sprays from the pharmacist, who simpers at me and I do my best to look pleasant back. Pretty sure I just look strained.

Fortunately there’s no horny alphas hanging around the door to the roof like sexually frustrated zombies, so I can safely assume that Newbie hasn’t fully gone into heat while I’ve been away. I lock the door closed behind me and look over at him. He’s made a half-assed attempt to obey me by removing his scrubs top and hurling it a few feet away from himself. Otherwise he’s still sprawled where he was before and I’m pretty sure the long sleeved black top he had on under the scrubs is as soaked in pheromones as the scrubs top was.

However, he still doesn’t smell too strongly of heat, which I take as a good sign. I still take a huff of the rut inhibitor, flinching slightly as it seems to stab a cold, clarifying mist through my sinuses and freeze my nostrils. My eyes water in response.

“Hey Newbie.”

He opens his eyes and looks back at me groggily, apparently requiring a lot of effort to focus.

“’S getting worse.”

“So I see.” I lift the paper bag up for him to see. “I got the meds though. Thanks for warning me those were specialized, by the way.”

He squints at me, the radiant blue of his irises gleaming out from narrowed eyes. “Sorry. Thought that was kinda obvious. Same’s you wouldn’t use recessive alpha medication.”

“Alright, alright, I get it, I’m a stupid alpha with no empathy.”

He closes his eyes again. “Basically. You’re demonstrating that pretty well by just standing there and not _helping_.”

“God, you’re pissy when you’re omega.”

He grunts out a slight laugh and I smirk at him in response. “Alright, Newb, where the hell do I put this syringe? Also, is it supposed to be this big?” It’s looks pretty vicious, not exactly something I’d have associated with omegan medicine. I’d have thought homeopathy, not a 7 gauge syringe.

He cracks his eyes open to glance at the syringe. “That’s what she said… yeah, that’s normal.” He swallows hard and shudders, the oncoming heat clearly bothering him. “Goes at the junction between the neck and the shoulder on my right. _Not_ the neck, okay? Here.” He gestures at himself.

Any question about where I should be doing this is answered when I get a closer look at his throat. In the hollow just above his clavicle is a lingering bruise and a few healing puncture sites. I’ve never noticed it before – his tops usually covering the area – and even if I had I’d probably have just assumed he’d walked into a low hanging planter or something. It looks painful.

“Glad you don’t just limit your medical incompetence to your patients, Newbie.”

“It’s in a pretty hard place to do to yourself. If I was left-handed it’d be easier.”

“You can’t do it on the other side?”

“Nah, needs to be near the scent gland. That’s the closest you can get without risking the damn thing thinking you’re being bonded and going haywire.” At my confused expression he rolls his vivid eyes, which is a really odd thing to see, like neon pinballs. “Body thinks the syringe is a fang or something.”

He abruptly bares his neck, a supplicant gesture, rolling his head over to his left shoulder. “Please, just do it. _Please._ ”

That’s actually a terrible thing to say to an alpha when you’re doing what is essentially an omegan “bite me” gesture, but he’s either not realized that or he trusts me. I’d like to think it’s the latter, but he’s obviously starting to go into the haze stage of heat, so it may well be the former.

“Okay,” I prime the syringe, expelling any air and then gently press down on his clavicle to stretch the skin taut. He makes a soft whine as I slide the needle into him and press the plunger down.

It appears to have an immediate effect in that his eyes roll back. I quickly pull the syringe out of his neck and catch him by the base of his skull, cupping the back of his head to hold him steady. “Newbie? You still with me?”

“Yeah,” he breathes. “I… uh, I might pass out for a second.”

“Fantastic.”

\- - - - -

Newbie’s sprawled insensate on the floor, but the heat pheromones – even the omega pheromones and scent – are already starting to noticeably lessen. I sigh and prod him gently, which has no apparent reaction and so I gently lower his head to the ground.

“God’s sake, Newbie.”

I give in to the stupid alpha demands my brain’s making and sit next to him, guarding him. Fuck’s sake. All it takes is a whiff of fucking pheromones and I turn into some horny guard dog, it’s just not acceptable.

This is what pisses me off, if I still thought that he was beta and he was unconscious then I’d just leave him up here.

_You tell yourself that, Chief._

Ugh. Okay, fine, maybe I wouldn’t. This is kinda acceptable with Newbie, considering I already know him and seem to have spent most of the last few years dealing with his shit. It’s just annoying that I’d be like this if I didn’t even know the omega.

_You keep telling yourself that, Chief. Even though you liked Carla once you still found her pheromones and omegan reactions annoying._

Fine, with any _dominant_ omega. Oh, whatever, shut up. Why am I calling myself ‘Chief’ anyhow?

\- - - - -

I groan. I feel like someone’s punched me in the neck and then run me over.

“Very eloquent, Newbie. I agree.”

I crack my eyes open and jump slightly. Doctor Cox is sat next to me on the roof.

“Hey. Good to see you looking like you again.”

“Huh?”

“The eyes, Cassidy.”

Oh, yeah. I try to drag myself upright and then flinch as a load of slick floods out of me from the shift in position. Oh my God, that will always be disgusting. Doctor Cox either doesn’t comment on it or doesn’t smell it. I really hope it’s the second option. He shoves a water bottle and the pills at me.

“Thanks.”

I take one, surprised he isn’t just expecting me to dry swallow it. He stands up abruptly and walks over to the wall, facing it and not looking at me.

“There’s clothes in the bag. Get changed and we’ll figure out what to do with those ones.”

My movements are still stiff and shaky, so it takes me a while to strip off. I quickly check he’s not looking and try desperately to wipe off any remaining slick with my boxers and then screw them up, bundling them into the stained scrubs.

“Does that stuff normally knock you out?”

I freeze, but he’s still facing away from me. It feels distinctly weird to be having a conversation with someone pointing in the wrong direction whilst you’re crouching naked on asphalt with the wind getting at your junk.

“It usually makes me dizzy. I’ve blacked out a couple times from it. It’s fast-acting and the hormonal change can screw with me sometimes.”

“That seems healthy.”

“Yeah, well, I prefer that to the alternative.”

I wriggle into the boxers and T shirt, both hopelessly too big and smelling slightly of alpha.

“You decent yet?”

“No.”

“Well, hurry up Pumpkin. This view isn’t the most stimulating.”

“These are your’s, right? They smell like you.”

“Can you still smell that when you’re dosed up on those things?”

I pull the scrubs top on and then start struggling into the pants, trying not to hop around as I do so.

“They dull my receptors slightly, but not much. It’s mainly camouflage, I’m still basically omega, can still smell everything and... and well, all that shit that makes me omega, I guess. Just I don’t show it as much. And it kills the heats, of course. I’m ‘decent’ now.”

I start to lace my sneakers up and he looks back at me.

“So, how’ve you managed to be lying so long and not be caught?”

I snap him an annoyed glance. “I’ve never lied. Have you ever heard me say I’m not omega? Or claim to be beta? Not saying something isn’t the same as lying.”

“Right, sure, Newbie. So the gender symbol next to your name on the attendance board is just a pretty picture right? And what about this?” He stalks over and tugs at my lanyard, flipping it over to my medical ID and photo, a clear Ββ underneath my name.

“Oh, is that what that is? I never really understood the Greek alphabet.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, JD.”

“I’m not being ridiculous. I bet you that if I was found out and said that then some alphas would absolutely believe that.”

He wrenches his own ID out and dangles it in front of my face, pointing at the AΑ on it. “I’m responsible Newbie, I wear this so’s other medical staff and my patients know what I am and can raise it if it’s gonna cause a problem.”

I shove his ID out of my face, glowering at him. “It’s not my job to correct people when they make assumptions. And if I wore a lanyard with my true gender on it then I wouldn’t be allowed to treat anyone, stop being naïve.”

“Oh, so you’re advancing omegan rights, are you? By pretending not to be one?”

“Maybe?” I sigh, pulling a hand through my hair. “Why do I have to be _doing_ something for omegas? Why some big, grand, ethical reason? I’m just trying to be what I’ve wanted to be since I was a kid.”

“Through subterfuge?”

“Look, I didn’t intentionally do this.” I sit on the wall, abruptly feeling tired. He sits down next to me, a surprisingly sympathetic expression on his face. “I went on the suppressants after my first heat, which was just before I went to college. That wasn’t on purpose, my heat was… really bad. It took me a few weeks to heal and it freaked me out. I mean, as well as it screwing my entire family up. So I thought I should try them. I was planning on going to college as an omega. Applications don’t ask for gender and because I was coming from a standard high school and had high grades and _hadn’t_ said I was alpha there was an assumption I was beta. The plan was to show up in all my glowy-eyed glory and then if they tried to throw me out I could accuse them of discrimination. Which it would have been, by the way. As it was, I showed up looking and smelling like a beta and nobody really ever asked me. So… it kind of got easier to just stick to that.”

I glance up at him. He’s frowning slightly. “So, people helped you through college?”

“What? No. Nobody helped me. I told you, nobody asked me what I was, everyone just assumed I was a beta.”

“So you’re saying Gandhi didn’t-“

“Turk doesn’t know. Like I said, _no one_ knows. The only person who helped me – if you can even call it that – was… uh, was my alpha.” For some weird reason I don’t want Doctor Cox to know that Dan’s my responsible alpha. Probably because he knows how irresponsible Dan is.

“Seriously? Gandhi doesn’t know? Didn’t you guys room together?”

“Yeah. I told you, even dominant alphas don’t pick up on it. Even _you_ didn’t. The inhibitors were working real well until earlier today. Usually I need to top them up if I’m around a load of alpha pheromones for a while, but I’m good at monitoring it.”

“And if you get caught out?”

“… If I get caught out then I can be honest. I _didn’t_ lie. I’ve not actually done anything wrong, despite the fact that’s not how people’ll see it. I’ve followed all the rules. My alpha comes and checks on me every couple months, like he’s supposed to. All I did was go to college and med school and then become a doctor whilst taking medication for… for a chronic condition. I can’t actually be accused of anything.”

“What about endangering patients? What about public disorder?”

I scoff. “I’ve never endangered any patients. Not even that omega just now, the idiot alphas who went crazy around her endangered her, not me.”

“That’s not how people would see it.”

“People are stupid, that’s not my problem. And the public disorder laws are bullshit. Idiots like Brenner think they’re a good idea, bastards who call omegas ‘it’ and think we should seal ourselves away rather than alphas exercise any self-control.”

“I’m not saying you’re wrong, Newbie, just you appear to be functioning on another plane of reality than the rest of us if you think anyone’ll care about all that.”

I bite my lip, wondering if I should even voice what I was planning on asking. Oh well, what can I lose?

“Do you think I’m a good doctor?”

He glances at me. “Yeah, I do.”

“And do you think I’d be here right now if I’d been open about being an omega?”

“No.”

“Do you think that’s fair?”

“No. But life isn’t fair.”

I scoff. “I did notice.”

“What about the random blood tests? I know they’re for drugs, but I can’t believe that they didn’t notice a load of omega pheromones or blockers in your blood”

“They’re not random. There’s a group of residents who bribe some of the admin staff. I keep in with them and always time it so that when the tests happen I’m on my ninth day after taking rhysolxin cypionate. That’s when my blood’s cleanest, I practiced pheromone detection at med school on my own blood. I know how it reacts, looks just like a beta’s blood then. No blockers, no pheromones. It's the sweet spot when it's balanced between the two.”

“So you know that there’s some guys doping in the hospital and rather than shop them you’ve gotten all friendly with them?” He sounds pissed. I’m pissed right back at him.

“Yeah, I have. Maybe that’s a bit disloyal, but maybe I don’t feel a huge amount of loyalty to hospital administration that I _know_ would react much worse to me just being me than some alphas who dope up on steroids. They’d get… what a slap on the wrist? I’d get suspended immediately, despite an alpha on steroids being way more likely to endanger a patient than me.”

“Jesus Christ, Newbie.”

I glance up at him, pleading. “Please don’t tell them.”

“You realize that if you get caught then your alpha’s screwed, right? And you think that they’ll believe that nobody knew? You think they’ll believe that _I_ didn’t know?”

I nod emphatically. “Yeah, of course, if I say nobody knew.”

“They don’t think omegas are smart enough for this, Newbie, they’ll think an alpha helped you.”

“Then I’ll say my alpha helped me and just him.”

“They won’t believe that-“

I grab his arm, desperate and not really caring now how pathetic I look. “Doctor Cox, _please_.”

He stares at me for a moment and then sighs. “Fine. Alright, Newbie, I won’t say anything.”

The wave of gratitude that runs over me nearly makes me dizzy with relief. “Thank you…”

“But since you’ve dragged me into this then I’m fucking responsible for you. So you’re damn well reporting to me now. I’ll give you your goddamn shots and you tell your alpha that he needs to sign over responsibility for you while you’re in California.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “I can look after myself, I don’t need anyone to be responsible for me.”

“Tough shit, Newbie. I am now, you’ve given me no choice.”

\- - - - -

We bundle the soiled clothing into the paper bag that the meds were in, both of us leaning as far away as possible from the mixture of pheromones and blood on them. Doctor Cox then leans over the edge of the roof and drops the bag down to land on top of his Porsche.

We both wait for a second, slightly worried that the car alarm will go off or we’ll see the Janitor go past and steal the bag or something. When nothing happens we both relax.

“I’m guessing your shift finished some time ago?” he asks me.

“Yeah. Before that omega even came in, actually. I wish I’d just gone home.” I worry my lip with my teeth gently and then glance at him. “Speaking of going home… uh, can you smell anything on me?”

“No.”

I roll my eyes. “I mean, if you try. Bear in mind I live with a dominant alpha, I need to know if there’s anything lingering a dominant can pick up. If there is I’ll go to a motel or something tonight.”

He sighs and then steps closer, moving behind me. I jump slightly and he shushes me. “Just stay still a second, I’ll check.”

I feel him drop his nose to the nape of my neck and inhale deeply. A shiver runs up my spine and I close my eyes, automatically dropping my head to my shoulder to expose the side of my neck. He moves to just above my scent gland on my throat and inhales again. I feel his lips brush the skin of my neck very briefly and thank God that the inhibitors are blocking everything as I’m pretty sure I’d otherwise essentially have just exploded with aroused omega pheromones. As it is, I just make an odd noise I’ve never heard myself make before, a low grumbling sound. A second later I realize it’s a purr and flush, swallowing hard to try to stop it.

“Sorry.”

“S’alright.” He sounds strained and backs up several steps away from me. “There’s a very faint hint of your scent, but since Gandhi was a fair way back from the omega in ER and hasn’t ever smelt you as yourself then I doubt he’d pick up on it or realize it wasn’t from her. He’ll probably just think it’s your body wash if he does notice it. And you smell of me, which he will pick up, but just say you borrowed the clothes from me.”

I’m still obsessing over the purr. “I’m so sorry, I’ve never done that before, I don’t know why-“

“Don’t sweat it Newbie. You’ve had a stressful day, it’s not a ridiculous reaction to someone being… kind.”

I give him a worried look; I don’t think either of us would ever categorize his interactions with me as “kind”.

“What are you gonna do with the clothes?”

“Get rid of them.”

“How?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Lily. Burn them, cram them down a garbage chute, dissolve them in battery acid, does it matter?”

I decide not to tell him those are my lucky boxers. I mean, clearly they aren’t functioning properly, anyway.

\- - - - -

“Dude, you’re a freaking hero!”

I close the door behind me and frown at Turk, who’s sat on the couch, his arm wrapped around Carla.

“What?”

He bounds onto to his feet. “I mean today! When that poor omega girl came in.”

He’s heading straight for me and wraps his arms around me in an enthusiastic, slightly too-tight hug. I grimace and suddenly feel intensely uncomfortable. Which is weird, since Turk and I are usually pretty touchy-feely around each other. He’s just affectionate and it usually helps me keep my slightly more clingy annoying omega habits in check if I’m getting platonic attention from a friendly alpha.

It’s probably just the inhibitors being all screwy or being reminded of what happened today. “I really don’t think I’m a hero, Turk. I couldn’t save her.”

“Yeah, but you tried man. Oh jeez.” He pulls back, a look of revulsion on his face. “Dude, you reek of Cox.”

I can’t help giggling slightly at how that sounds and he rolls his eyes. “You know I mean Doctor Cox. What the hell, why you bringing his stink into my crib?”

“He lent me some stuff after… you know, I got covered in blood.”

“Well, go shower. Only so much an alpha can put up with and I’m not having another load of foreign alpha pheromones in my home.”

For show I snuffle at the T shirt. “I don’t smell anything.” The pheromones are pretty strong, which is odd considering it’s (presumably) been washed before he gave it to me.

“Of course you don’t, you beta bastard. But we can and we don’t want to smell him all night, do we baby?”

“Smells better than you most of the time.”

Turk makes a long-suffering expression at me. “She’s pissed at me.”

“I’m pissed at all of you.”

Turk looks like he’s going to snap at her, so I try to defuse it. “At all of who?”

“Those alphas. You saw them Bambi, they were useless. In fact, they were _worse_ than useless, those idiots crashed into you when you were trying to save her because they couldn’t control themselves. And they were blocking the door because they all wanted to gather around and stare at a ‘rare’ dominant omega. That’s why there were so few betas who could help you, they all got stuck behind the alphas and because they couldn’t smell all the shit that was going down they thought it was being dealt with and backed off.”

Ah, that makes sense. I tactfully/unbravely decide not to point out to Carla that she and the other omega nurse had been pretty ineffective as well. “Yeah, but they weren’t all useless. Doctor Cox was trying to get the alphas out and he stopped someone charging me. Who was that, by the way?”

“Sanders.” Turk said dully.

“Sanders? That surgical resident? He’s really dominant isn’t he? I guess that makes sense.”

“Dunno, man. The Todd was all crazy too, he’s the one who knocked you over and he’s recessive. I guess it’s the lack of exposure to omegas.”

“Oh. Well, I’m glad Doctor Cox stopped Sanders, he’s massive. That'd hurt if he'd have gotten to me. I'm surprised he didn’t flatten Doctor Cox, actually.”

“Perry could wipe the floor with most of the alphas, massive or not.” Carla mutters, I’m pretty sure to goad Turk. “Which is more than can be said for others.”

“She means that I didn’t do much to help or stop them going for you. Dude, help me out here. Actually, rain check – dude, go shower and then help me out here. That stench is putting me on edge.”

\- - - - -

We apparently have no boundaries in the apartment since Carla decides to come into the bathroom when I’m in the shower. I only know because she interrupts my rousing recital of “I Want to Break Free” by Queen by coughing softly. I peer around the edge of the shower curtain, covered in suds and stare at her.

“Jesus, Carla. Give a man his privacy.”

“Aren’t you pissed?”

“Yeah, I’m pissed I can’t wash my hair in peace.”

“Sorry, did I interrupt your manscaping?”

I self-consciously reverse slightly more behind the shower curtain. Turk and Carla have an ongoing joke about my “manscaping”, which I occasionally add fuel to the fire by leaving shaving creams around and acting bashful if it’s mentioned. Of course, I don’t actually manscape; dominant omegas for some reason don’t have much body hair. We apparently make up for it with our lustrous, shiny manes of head hair. It takes me about two weeks to cultivate stubble if I want to look rugged, it’s really annoying. I’m pretty sure it’d take about three months for me to grow anything that could be categorized as a beard.

“No, I don’t manscape.” Completely true. As I said to Doctor Cox, I really don’t lie. I don’t need to most of the time.

“Sure Bambi. Seriously though, didn’t it piss you off today?”

I shove my head under the stream of water for a second and then pull out, blinking droplets out of my eyes. “Well, yeah. But probably not in the same way as you.”

“What, because I’m an omega? Because we’re so _sensitive_?”

I roll my eyes, relieved she can’t currently see me. “No. Don’t be so defensive. I just mean you seem pissed off at all the alphas. I’m not, I’m pissed off at the idiots who acted stupidly, but that wasn’t all of them. I don’t blame _alphas_ , I blame… well, Sanders, The Todd and whoever else was getting in the way and fighting. I think blaming them as a gender group kinda lets individuals off. Everyone’s responsible for their own behavior, they can’t just keep blaming biology.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re not controlled by your’s.” My eyes just rolled so hard I think I dislocated them. “And you’d be defensive too, if you were at a total disadvantage and powerless the way omegas are.”

I shut off the water and stick my head back out from around the shower curtain. “Well, as a powerless, disadvantaged omega you’re currently trapping me in the shower. Mind emancipating me?”

She throws a towel at me.

“Thanks.”

I unfold it to discover she’s essentially thrown a facecloth at me and grabbed the larger towels off the radiator.

“That’s the sort of emancipation omegas have been given, Bambi. See how you like it. Also, it’ll help you show off your manscaping.”

I hate everything…

\- - - - -

After a slightly tedious evening of Carla griping about how terrible alphas are, Turk getting increasingly frustrated with her and me trying to get to my bedroom without accidentally flashing the entire apartment I have to do what I’ve been dreading. I put it off a while longer by sitting on my bed and snuffling at the Doctor Cox pheromones T shirt, which initially makes me feel a bit calmer but then makes me vividly remember him scenting me earlier and I horrendously purr again. Horribly embarrassed I shove it into my wardrobe. Then pull it out, put it into a vacuum pouch to preserve the scent, and shove it back in. Then put a scarf over it. Then put a pillow on it before I realize that I’m trying to nest the damn thing. Dammit, clearly my hormones still aren’t quite right.

I grab my iPad and frown. I really can’t afford to be overheard on this conversation and considering Carla’s already decided to invade my personal space once tonight I should probably be careful. I lock the door and inhale deeply.

Alpha and omega both in the sitting room and… well, they smell pissed. In fact, they smell like they’re about to have a truly epic argument. I don’t think anyone will be coming by the bedroom door, but still back off and sit between the bed and the outer wall. Then put my headphones in so I can make sure Dan doesn’t start to audibly yell something incriminating at me by routing it straight into my brain rather than the surrounding airwaves.

He picks up on the second ring. “Heyyyy lil’ brother.”

“Hi Dan,” I say softly. He frowns at me over the video link, a worried expression running over his face.

“What’s up? Why are you wearing those little airpod things? You look like you’ve got some really gross earplugs in.”

“I don’t want Turk or Carla to overhear,” I say quietly. If Dan looked worried before he now looks nauseated.

“What’s up, Johnny? Has something happened?”

“Uh… yeah, something has happened. It’s not too bad, before you start to get all crazy protective alpha over it, okay? Someone’s found out.”

“What? How could someone find out? Who was it?”

“There was a patient today at the hospital… she was a dominant omega. Alphas and omegas couldn’t treat her because of the pheromones so I had to.“

“Oh Jesus…”

“Yeah. She… she died. But before she died I got covered in her blood and pheromones. There was a… uh, there was a reaction.”

Even if they are listening in, there’s nothing too incriminating actually being said. Go me. I really do subvert the dumb omega stereotype.

“Shit.”

“Yeah, exactly. I went to the roof to try to… to contain it. But it didn’t work and someone else came up there.”

“Who?”

Shit, he’s really not going to like this. “Doctor Cox.”

“… What?”

I just stare at him with wide eyes and he drops his head into his hands and groans.

“Seriously? Coxer knows you’re a dominant omega?”

I flinch, even though I’ve got the headphones in. “Yeah.”

“Oh, great. So, when should I expect the cops to come around?”

“He’s not going to say anything.”

Dan suddenly goes pale. “You didn’t… he didn’t make you do anything in return for not telling anyone, right?”

“No,” I hiss indignantly. “Actually, he got me meds and helped me out. Don’t be such a dick, Dan.”

“Sorry. He doesn’t exactly come across as a white knight type, is all.”

I shrug. “I guess all of you have a weakness for me.” I give him a bright grin which I know looks forced.

“You saying he’s got the hots for you?”

I roll my eyes. “C’mon, Dan. When I’m like that pretty much all alphas want a piece. I’m well aware it’s nothing personal, it’s biology. But he seemed pretty driven to be protective, which I guess is a natural reaction for you guys to finding someone… like me in that condition.”

“So when your delightful fruity pheromones have worn off he’ll want to shop you?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then what you just said makes no sense. But whatever, Johnny. Don’t worry about it, let me worry about it. I’ll talk to him. I presume you told him I’m your alpha?”

Oh, ouch. “Er… I told him I _had_ an alpha.”

Dan lifts his eyebrows and doesn’t say anything.

“It… it didn’t really come up for me to say _who_.”

Dan still doesn’t say anything and I cast around for something to say that will make me sound like less of an ungrateful bastard. “Just… y’know, some people don’t understand the sibling bond thing. I thought… I thought it would confuse him?”

“Yeah, I’m sure Coxer would have assumed I was screwing you if you told him I was your alpha.” Dan says drily.

“It’s not like _that_ , just… it was really awkward, Dan.” I remember what Doctor Cox said about my telling my alpha that he was signing over responsibility for me to him in California. I decide not to tell Dan that.

“Also… um, it may have slipped my mind to tell him I’m unmated. So I may have thought it would be better to not mention it was a guardianship alpha relationship rather than… uh…”

Dan drops his head into his hands again. “Jesus, Johnny.”

“You guys get funny about things like that. You go all kinda… weird over it. I never quite know whether it turns you on or horrifies you.”

“It does both, Johnny, it’s a virgin fantasy thing. It’s why you’d have a ridiculously high dowry now, even though you’re getting on a bit.”

“Thanks.”

“And you’ve drugged yourself into probable infertility.”

“Again, thanks.”

“Did you have your creepy eyes back today then?”

I sigh. “Yeah.”

“Damn, I miss them. You always looked like you’d just been possessed, it freaked the shit out of my friends.”

“That is my purpose in life.”

Dan stops grinning abruptly. “You need to tell him.”

“Tell him what? That I look possessed? He knows, he saw that today.”

“No, that you’re unmated. And that I’m your alpha.”

I whine at him softly.

“Don’t do that, you know it doesn’t work on me.”

“But it’s embarrassing.”

“That you’re unmated or that I’m your alpha?”

“Both?”

“Very funny, lil’ brother. Seriously. Do it. I’m not kidding. I want to be able to talk to Coxer about this. You know some guardian alphas would come and insist on doing it in person. I know you look after yourself and you’re responsible for yourself and I respect that, which is why I’m telling you to deal with it. If anything happens it’s my ass on the line.”

“I know…”

“You realize how utterly lax I am, right? That I don’t want to keep you on a leash and it makes me sick some alphas do that. I met someone recently who insisted his sibling-omega called him ‘alpha’ at all times. I wanted to punch the bastard.”

“Ew.”

“Exactly. I’d never do that. So don’t stress too much, but you need to tell him Johnny, so I can make sure he doesn’t try to do any shit like that. Just because you’ve been blessed with an awesome alpha brother and best friend doesn’t mean they’re all like that.”

“’Kay.”

“Get some sleep. Love you, lil’ brother.”

“Love you too, alpha.”

“Very funny.”

He signs off. I frown and then google “omega purr”, which brings back an unnerving number of porn vids (‘hot purring omega girl knotted by three alpha studs’ being the top featured video). I turn safe search on in the hope of getting something more educational. Unfortunately this works and I’m confronted with an article about omegan purring and why it happens, almost all of which implies it’s to do with being aroused. I trawl through it to see if there’s any non-sexual reason why an omega might purr and am disappointed. Unless I’d been nursing an infant (and I think I’d have noticed if I had been) or being warmed up after suffering hypothermia (again, think I’d have noticed) then the Internet seems to be saying I was horny. There are some comments about omegas purring when they’ve had massages or when their vocal chords were directly stimulated (since that’s where the purring comes from) so I could kinda blame him being around my neck and throat causing it, but pretty sure that’s bullshit. Some articles show it's about contentment as well, but that's possibly even worse than horniness.

Ah, shit.

I toss and turn in bed for ages until I give in and go get the T shirt back and lie on it. I’m not hugely surprised when I pretty much immediately fall asleep on it.

\- - - - -

The brown paper bag is sat next to me in the passenger seat of the Porsche. I keep glancing at it on the drive back to my apartment like it’s evidence of a murder I just committed. Or a bomb.

_You know what’s in there, you know what’s in there_ is chanting through my head in a dreadful litany that I’m trying to ignore. Yeah, blood and pheromones, shut the hell up. My alpha cavorts around gleefully and I ignore it.

My shrink tells me that categorizing all my biological responses as “my alpha” rather than as myself is unhealthy. However, he also says my excessive drinking and extreme narcissism is unhealthy, but hell, I wouldn’t be me without them. He can go screw himself as far as I’m concerned, it keeps me sane. All of it.

I park up outside my block and glance over at the large communal trash dumpster outside. I was planning on chucking the paper bag and it’s grisly contents in there; in a worst case scenario where the cops randomly searched through it (real low chance of that, but you never know) it’s completely explicable that a doctor was throwing away blood-soaked scrubs. They could even run the blood against the dead omega if they wanted to check, I’m not worried about _that_.

Rather, my bastard alpha is strongly resisting any urge to throw away Newbie’s scent. It wants to keep hold of that. Because my goddamn alpha _really_ fucking enjoyed scenting Newbie and very strongly wanted to bite him earlier. See, this is why I need to think of that part of myself as something separate to me. I really don’t want that to be me. Like some horny frothing mutt.

Not necessarily because it’s thinking that about Newbie, that’s just biology and reacting to him isn’t something I’m overly bothered about. It’s more that my alpha only really views him as “an omega”; the whole issue I have with those alpha morons who can’t control themselves. It’s alright to find something appealing, even if it’s something you feel like you should really want to strangle (I mean, _Jesus_ , what the fuck is he thinking?). It’s the impersonal nature of it, it sets my teeth on edge. And I’ve not done this before, I’ve always been able to think of alphas, betas and omegas as who they are rather than their secondary gender. Barbie’s annoying, she’s a beta, Bob’s the devil, he’s beta, Gandhi’s fucking annoying, he’s an alpha, Carla has no sense of humor, she’s an omega, etc. I’ve even been able to think that about the limited number of dominant omegas I’ve come into contact with. They’re a patient or… or whatever first, before they’re categorized as anything else. I mean, that’s possibly down to my upbringing, but let’s not bring all that shit into this.

It’s distressing that I’m apparently not doing this with Newbie. I’m hoping it’s because it was a shock and hopefully once I’ve processed it I won’t constantly have my fucking alpha drooling at him all the time. Because it's annoying and demeaning, not because viewing him like that upsets me. And has never happened at all before. Ever. Obviously.

My alpha interrupts my musings by furiously demanding I rescue Newbie’s clothing from the bag. Because of the _other_ scent as well, you know what I mean Perry, you’ve been trying not to think about it all day, Champ.

Oh yeah. Fucking male omegas and fucking slick. I’d nearly made some joke to Newbie to try to lighten the mood when he tried to get up and abruptly released a load of it. But I’d seen the look of utter mortification on his face and stopped myself. I can imagine that’s not pleasant, particularly if you basically tell yourself you’re beta most of the time. So I pretended not to have noticed, which he should know was bullshit because if there’s _any_ scent that an alpha’s attuned to then it’s anything to do with horny omega.

My alpha’s basically gone rabid now and so I decide to ignore it. I’ve been sat in a parked car for about twenty minutes now, having a furious internal debate with myself and it’s pissing me off. I know what I need to do; my hormones are all screwed and all those nasal sprays really do are delay ruts rather than stop them. I need to go… take care of myself. Hopefully that’ll masturbate the damn alpha into submission again.

_Yes, yes, yes and you know what you should use while you’re rutting, right?_

Shut up.

I pull Newbie’s shirt and boxers out of the bag and shove the scrubs back in. I’ll… I’ll launder the clothes and give them back to him, this is entirely altruistic. It’s, in fact, so altruistic that I’m going to leave them in the Porsche so I don’t get tempted to do something so utterly disgusting with them. It’s the sort of thing a psychopath would do. Or that revolting overcompensating surgical resident. I’m not sure which is worse.

I shove the bag with the scrubs into the dumpster and resolutely lock the Porsche, going up into the apartment and ignoring my alpha’s disappointed whine.

I go into the spare bedroom and glare at the set up there. Most alphas have a room like this, but that still doesn’t make it any less oddly grim. When Jordan and I were still together we referred to this as “the rut room” and would gleefully tell any guests sleeping there that was what it was generally used for. God, we were a horrible couple.

Of course, everyone said two dominant alphas wouldn’t work, but we ignored them. Hell, a few people were even impressed by our “unusual” relationship, claimed we were trailblazing for gender equality and not allowing ourselves to be pigeonholed. It sounds ridiculous now, but at the time I did actually feel I was being some sort of social justice warrior, ignoring that we were both from the most privileged group and the real justice needed to be done for the most disadvantaged individuals. Two rich kids playing at understanding the desperately poor. I can claim all kinds of shit, that I was motivated by stuff from my childhood, yada yada, but it was a total car crash.

I mean, I loved Jordan. I still do love Jordan, actually, in a different sort of way. She’s strong, she’s in control and she doesn’t take any shit. And she wasn’t like me, I come from a piss-poor Pittsburgh pigsty. Yeah, sure, I got through med school and made my own breaks – as much as any dominant alpha can claim. But Jordan came from _money_. When she presented as alpha her parents did what all good rich parents would do for a kid in that situation and offered to buy her a dominant omega.

Jordan wanted nothing to do with that. She’d make her own way and she sure as hell wasn’t going to have some purchased bride or groom that didn’t have any choice in the matter. She met a couple that her parents were considering and found them all vapid and boring. She wanted someone she could torment and not feel bad about. Omegas didn’t count, they made her feel like shit for doing that.

Pretty sure if someone had offered me a dominant omega at eighteen I would have snapped their hand off.

It also was pretty hard on Jordan in that her younger brother and sister both presented as beta. The Sullivans were shocked that money hadn’t resulted in some perfect family of an alpha son and omega or beta daughters, but that’s how the shit rolls sometimes. But Jordan decided that she was her family’s alpha and she’d damn well be it. And if any bastard told her she shouldn’t be or asked to see her knot then she’d eviscerate them.

She was just so fucking strong and self-assured that I’d been utterly smitten. And we did love each other. We did. And if a relationship could be entirely supported by love then we’d still be together. But it’s naïve as hell to think that.

Alphas don’t really like being around other alphas and dominant alphas are worse. We need our space, being characterized as independent lone wolf types is all fine in those westerns, but we actually are. So living with another alpha stresses us out, even if we love them. Omegas and betas are different, they’re less in your face than another alpha. Even they can stress us out, but another alpha… Jesus, it basically sets your teeth on edge.

And we couldn’t bond. We half-heartedly tried, but biology wasn’t in our favor. We both realized this and considered other options. Neither of our biological urges were being fulfilled and although the sex was fantastic it wasn’t satisfying in the way that our pheromones demanded. So after a while we switched to an open relationship, thinking we could get the biological payoff elsewhere that was missing.

Terrible idea, as it turns out. Dominant alphas get horrendously jealous and we ended up snarling and snapping at one another, both terrified that the other would find a beta or omega and run off with it. One night it escalated and we were so close to getting into a full scale physical fight, not just a snarling match or brief clash. Dominant alphas genuinely fighting can be utterly destructive, it’s no laughing matter. And I'd seen enough domestic abuse to last a lifetime when I was younger, I couldn’t, absolutely couldn’t, no way…

So we called it quits. We shook hands and agreed we’d done our absolute best, but the biology had been against us all the way. Better to finish now and keep our friendship. Alphas sometimes develop weird friendly relationships with other alphas and we had, almost hunting pacts; we couldn’t bear to spend too much time together, but it could be relaxing to get together every so often and growl about shit.

I stare despondently at the room again. Even after that miserable trip down memory lane I’m still feeling furious and horny and frustrated, just with the addition of utterly depressed now. Which is basically how I felt a lot whilst I was married. It’s not a pleasant reminder.

Ugh, fine, just do this, it’ll feel better after, however much I resent how demeaning it feels right now.

Alpha rut aids are just basically large flesh lights that are mounted at the right height to screw into. They have a certain amount of elasticity which allows you knot the damn thing and so fool your rutting body into thinking it’s impregnated someone. You then end up stuck in the goddamn thing for some hours, but at least you can just dismount it from the stand and go do whatever the hell you need to do. If you actually were rutting a real omega you and the poor bastard would be stuck together for hours.

It all sounds very romantic and everything on the tin, but it’s just plain ridiculous as far as I’m concerned. It all seems just so damn undignified, although I've admittedly never actually knotted anyone. It’s always in movies as the alpha and omega reclining together in silken sheets and having hours of blissful sex. I call bullshit, Stephen Spielberg.

And, of course, the omega pheromones. You spray them into your face, basically, to trigger the rut.

I sigh, once again feeling an odd but familiar combination of mortified and ashamed of my own stupid biology. Then I spray the stuff into my face.

When I’ve done this before the response has been pretty instantaneous. You’re usually already horny and it just trips you into rut and you… well, you do what nature drives you to do. It’s very awkward and everything, but it at least means you’re doing something to relieve the situation.

Only this time it’s weird. The pheromone is definitely omega, I can tell. It should trip me into rut, but it doesn’t.

I frown. The closest I can describe it is when you watch really weird porn. Technically you can see it’s sort of sexy, but it just doesn’t work for you. I have a brief, horrible memory of being shown bukkake once.

I should be horny, I can tell that, but it just smells _wrong_. It smells plastic, somehow. Artificial.

Obviously it is, but that’s never really bothered me before. Apparently I’m becoming some sort of artisan, organic omega enthusiast. A pheromone hipster.

I try it again and this time am actively repulsed by the smell, backing off several steps from the sprayed mist droplets, growling slightly.

What the actual fuck? Maybe it’s expired, it’s been some time since I used it last. I’ll have to buy some more.

I stare at the bottle (that is utterly, visibly within it’s ‘use by’ date) and then sigh and give in, going and retrieving Newbie’s clothing from my Porsche and bringing it up to the apartment.

I mechanically do the business and ignore the humiliating, degrading fact that I’m rutting with Newbie’s damn underwear pressed against my face. And I absolutely ignore how good it feels.

It doesn’t mean anything. I’m not a psychopath.

And I’m _definitely_ not like that goddamn surgeon.


	5. 05. My Awkward Day After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooo. As ever, thank you all for reviews and kudos! These are so very motivating for me :)
> 
> To address something that I expect will occasionally irk readers; Carla. She is intentionally being written as being slightly annoying sometimes. But do remember that where this is highlighted is in JD's viewpoint and he finds anything that makes him feel guilty about "hiding" being an omega as annoying, he's a biased narrator. The only real regret I have about writing first person POV (which is not actually my usual medium, despite all my stories on here being it so far) is that everything is shown from one perspective. I've intentionally written these perspectives as not being completely reliable (both JD and Cox have already directly contradicted themselves within this story), but obviously as the reader (and even as the writer) you end up feeling this perspective as "truth". So, yeah, Carla is being a bit judgey and annoying sometimes, but JD is pretty dismissive of her, which exacerbates her behaviour. Remember that Carla has been working in medicine a lot longer than JD and has probably seen an awful lot of shit that's influencing her to act the way she does. JD, although very unlucky at what happened to him, has been lucky in that most of the alphas around him have been very decent (Dan, Turk, to an extent Doctor Cox). Carla hasn't necessarily had this experience. Also, Carla does just bully JD a bit sometimes for fun. She's a bit Coxish that way.
> 
> I write these chapters in Microsoft Word and used different fonts for the second line of this to show that Perry and JD were thinking the same thing. Didn't compute onto here, sadly, but hope that makes it make more sense? Basically, first brief section is a "shared" narrative, for want of a better phrase.

**My Unorthodox Treatment**

**by RumCove**

**My Awkward Day After**

Disclaimer: Scrubs original characters belong to Bill Lawrence and NBC/ABC/Doozer Productions etc. Basically, not owned by me. I own the original characters in this work.

_I wake up and groan._

_God, did I really fall asleep last night with_ _**Doctor Cox’s** /_ _Newbie’s scent in my face?_

_Well, this is going to be awkward._

\- - - - -

It’s only 1100 and I already know I’m going to have to stage some terrifically uncomfortable intervention soon to keep this all from going to shit. Doctor Cox has, so far, called me a total of 0 girls’ names, called me “JD” 6 times and has already asked me twice if I’m feeling alright. Elliot’s looking utterly bemused.

“JD, what’s going on with Doctor Cox?”

“Uh…” I shuffle slightly closer to her as we both chill together at the nurses’ station. “I think that omega yesterday really got to him.”

I feel a bit disloyal doing this, but the stupid posturing bastard hasn’t exactly left me with much choice.

“Ooohhh.”

“Yeah. I think he felt really bad he couldn’t do much and… and I was pretty upset about it all. I think he’s just been uncharacteristically sensitive about it. Thinks his inaction caused her to die on me.”

“Makes sense.”

I glance at her. “I’m sorry I shrugged you off, Elliot. I didn’t mean to, it just…”

“Don’t worry, JD. I get it.”

Have I mentioned how much I hate biology? I wish I actually was a beta, that this was a genuine option that wouldn’t just break her heart. _Everything_ is right, apart from the damn biology. I briefly wonder if she’s confused, that it makes utterly no sense from her point of view, that I’m just being a dick for no reason. I catch myself before I fall back into a spiral of “why don’t I just go sell myself” ranting in my own head, that doesn’t help anyone.

Elliot, having noticed I’ve gone silent and introspective, pipes up suddenly in what I presume she thinks will cheer me up. “I’m _so_ glad we’re betas.”

I frown at her. “That’s an unusual sentiment.”

“Well, aren’t you?”

“Elliot, your mind is genuinely like some kinda Rubik’s Cube sometimes. I can sort of see why all the colors match up, but I’ve no idea how you got there.”

“Have you ever properly watched alphas and omegas? Like people watching, but themed. I love doing it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I mean alphas are all independent and angry, right? So, if you watch them then you’ll see they prefer being alone or with betas and omegas, but you will notice them come together every so often.” As she talks we watch as Turk and The Todd briefly speak about something and then back off. “There’s a weird drive with them to get together and posture and show off, then they break off because they can’t stand being around another alpha too long. Even recessives do it.”

“Well, yeah, but alphas aren’t completely stuck like that, they can interact more.”

“Yes, but it makes them uncomfortable. You can see it. They’ve got three separate coping mechanisms and-“

“Wait, wait, what? Is this actually anything real, Elliot, or just based on a Sacred Heart case study of all the weird broken alphas here?”

“No, it’s real. Have I never mentioned what I majored on in college?”

“Nooo.” I give her a puzzled look. “You’ve not really spoken about it.”

“Oh. I thought I had. I studied pheromonal secondary gender groupings and their societal interactions and psychological drives.”

Oh. I’m actually really glad she’s told me that _after_ I’ve slept with her or I’d have been terrified I was doing omegan sex somehow. Presumably I didn’t?

“No, you never mentioned that.” I respond carefully. She looks confused for a moment.

“Sorry, thought I had. Well, you’ll have had this. As a beta there’s not a great deal we can do where an alpha won’t automatically trump us just by applying, no matter the grades. But pheromonal and secondary gender studies are a bit more balanced."

“Are they?” I’m genuinely bemused by this. “They didn’t have that as an option at UCSF.”

“Ah. They did at Virginia, maybe it’s a more bespoke specialty than I realized. Well, betas kinda had head start on that compared to the alphas.”

“Why?”

Elliot scoffs. “ _Why_? Well, all the alphas applied for it, of course, but they mainly failed. You had to study alphas and omegas, so most alphas ended up posturing at other alphas and trying to have sex with the omegas. Betas made up 50% of my intake and yet half dropped out by graduation. None of the alphas did, ever wonder about that?”

I shrug. “Similar with me. I figured the betas just got sick of the automatic alpha preference. If they screwed up a test they could claim they went into rut around that time and get to retest. It pissed everyone off so a lot gave up, thinking that was what it would be like in medicine.”

“Yeah, and it is, right? Notice that it’s the betas that all put in the longest hours and get the least glory?”

I shrug. “Some of the alphas do too. And omegas.”

Elliot shrugs right back at me. “Anyway, I didn’t mean this to be a bitch fest about why betas have it worst, although that’s always fun, don’t get me wrong. The point I was making was that this was a subject where alphas actually got pulled up on their shitty behavior so it was pretty appealing. I still had a lot of other betas to go up against but I impressed the tutor and got into his course. It was _fascinating_.”

We both duck down, staring at our notes and pretending to write as Doctor Cox passes us and glares at us both. Once he’s a safe distance away Elliot continues:

“We were taught about interactions _between_ alphas. And between omegas. And betas, actually, first course I’ve seen that even considered us.”

“Well, betas are just normal, right?”

I glance after Doctor Cox, slightly worried he’ll come back and demand to know why I’m being a chatty Cathy in class, Felicity.

“Yeah, but we have distinct behavioral patterns, same as anyone else. We get dismissed as just being ‘normal’ and we all know that no one’s really normal.”

“I guess? So what did your tutor say the three alpha coping mechanisms were?”

“So, when alphas have to engage with other alphas it sets their teeth on edge. Even though logically they know that they don’t have to do anything, they get a load of hormones that try to make them do stuff. So the three coping mechanisms that Professor Gillespie observed with alphas were posturing, undermining and passive aggressive actions. The fourth coping mechanism was all-out aggression, but that wasn’t viewed as a coping mechanism.”

“Is it really that simple?”

“Not directly, but he reckoned that most alphas interacting with one another would have at least a baseline motivation of each of those mechanisms. I mean, posturing – just look at Turk and The Todd, they’re clearly posturing when they’re together, even though they probably actually like being in each others’ company. There’s definitely one-upmanship going on. And have you seen the alphas playing basketball in the car lot? They can’t help themselves, they’re constantly trying to show off and make the rest look bad, even though there’s no omegas around. And Doctor Cox uses all three with alphas.”

“But he’s not-“

“Not with us, he’s mainly belittling with betas.” Elliot frowns slightly. “Although he’s a bit different with you for some reason.”

I study my chart carefully to avoid eye contact.

“What about omegas?”

“Well, you see the recessive omega stuff here plenty. There’s a sort of hierarchical thing. Carla’s clearly the queen bee and yeah, she’s very protective of new recessive omegas. It’s a sort of matriarchy, even with the guys. But have you seen what she’s like when one of them defies her or does something ‘un-omegan’?”

“Nooo?” I have actually, but a beta shouldn’t have noticed that or been distressed by it.

“She ejects them from the group and the other omegas ignore them. That’s actually _really_ detrimental to an omega.”

Elliot and I both drop our heads back down as Doctor Cox reappears and continue our pretense of note writing. Once he’s cleared the area Elliot continues.

“Omegas – both recessive and dominant omegas – have a drive to be with other omegas, particularly when they’re upset. Which is a bit screwed up as it is, considering how few of them there are. If an omega is isolated from other omegas they get depressed and it can even mess up their pheromones. So to ostracize an omega from the group is actually really cruel. You’ll notice that if the omega isn’t forgiven and allowed back then they usually leave. It gets too difficult for them.”

I’ve personally never been part of an omega group, so can’t really comment. It seems a bit like some of the romanticism around omegas to me though, saying they _need_ the groupings. Sure, they like them and I have to admit that when Carla’s being nice to me, being comforting… I feel something I don’t generally feel around betas and alphas. It’s why I kissed her once, misinterpreting the signals. She kissed me back too, to be fair.

I felt _safe_. It’s such an unusual feeling I remember being shocked by it. I shuffle my feet slightly and then look back at Elliot.

“Is it really like that, though? Plenty omegas must not regularly see and interact with other omegas.”

“Yeah, but it’s the rejection that seems to really get to them. Omegas seem to judge other omegas much worse than anyone else does.”

Well, I can definitely agree with that. When I first presented the worst comments about my “crude” behavior came from omegas. I remember that rankling more, that they should know that being an omega didn’t mean you were supposed to behave in a certain way. Recessive omega girls (and one guy) in class formed a group and seemed to spend most of their time loudly pointing out why I was a shit omega, from my language to my clothing (my lack of fashion sense is apparently revolting) to my enjoyment of reading. It hurt, I remember it hurting more than the alphas telling me I was a whore and should look forward to a life of getting fucked and screaming for more.

I nod. “So you’re glad to be a beta and not deal with that?”

“Well, yeah. Betas seem to hang out together – like us – and there’s no shitty behavior from pheromones or whatever. Betas automatically band together and we don’t seem to do the weird undermining shit that the rest of them do. _And_ we can be friends with alphas and omegas and not be bizarre about it. Like you and Turk. Or Doctor Cox and Ben. Alphas seem to like having beta sidekicks, it seems to chill them out.”

“I’m not a sidekick. I’m totally Han Solo.”

“You’re Chewbacca and you know it.”

I sigh and make a quiet Wookiee noise, making Elliot giggle. “True.”

“Honestly, I think the only groups who treat themselves and others decently are betas and dominant omegas.”

I pause, trying not to overreact at that. I then casually look back at her. “You studied dominant omegas too?”

“Yeah. It’s one reason that alphas generally didn’t get onto the course. I went to some of the omega finishing schools and interacted with them. Alphas wouldn’t have been allowed.”

“And… they _weren’t_ like recessive omegas?”

I’ve never met another dominant omega. Apart from the one yesterday and I’m not sure that counted, she wasn’t alive very long.

“No… no they weren’t.” Elliot looks thoughtful for a second. “I’m going to sound like some love-struck alpha if I say what they were like.”

“Which is?”

“They were _sweet_ , JD. And I don’t mean like an alpha might think or like the stereotype is, like they weren’t sexy or dumb or scatter-brained or whatever. They were all pretty different but they had the some of the same characteristics. They all wanted to help. There was no hierarchy and they _never_ ostracized one another. Bearing in mind this was high school. No cliques, no nothing, they all got on. And…”

Elliot trails off. Desperate for more, I prod her, both physically and verbally. “And what?”

“They comforted each other. Some of them got incredibly upset, dominant omegas are more sensitive than anyone else. Not that it’s a bad thing, they just seem to feel things really intensely. Some were upset that they were omega because they hadn’t been expecting it, some missed their families, some were scared of bonding. And when one broke down, all the other ones rallied around them. I’ve heard alphas refer to omega mass hysteria which is bullshit. When one omega is upset the rest don’t get upset, but they swarm to help the one suffering. They all released comforting pheromones – or I was told they were, I couldn’t sense them. They cared for one another, they looked after one another. And not just that. I had a really bad break up while I was at the high school, my college sweetheart cheated on me with a sorority sister. I was so upset and one day I just started crying while I was observing them. And they all kind of dog-piled on me to make me feel better. They didn’t care that I wasn’t another omega, they just cared that it hurt and they wanted to help.”

I’m barely focused now, near tears and trying not to show it. Why did no one ever tell me this? I always assumed I was weird, that wanting to help people was some personality trait that didn’t fit with the stereotype. I didn’t realize I _was_ a stereotype. I kinda want to go and hide somewhere and cry, but pull myself together. Because that would completely be a stereotype.

“So that’s why you were so calm yesterday? You’ve been around them before?”

“Yes and no. Being around them means you realize that they aren’t these useless little morons that people paint them as. That they’re as smart and as ambitious and as _hopeful_ as anyone else. They just get told they can’t be. So yeah, it means I don’t think of them as some fascinating natural science exhibition and get terrified of treating them. But that means I also know that they’re the same as everyone else and them being locked up and deprived of a real life is just _so wrong_. Which sounds ridiculous, because it should be wrong no matter what, but it suddenly means more if you meet them and realize they’re… well, real people. It makes it more tragic.”

She sees Doctor Cox coming back and ducks her head down. I frown at her, ignoring his looming impending presence and throw caution to the winds. “Were there any male dominant omegas there? Were they the same?”

She rolls her eyes in the direction of Doctor Cox’s approaching figure, trying to signal to me to shut up.

“Were there?”

I get smacked over the head with a rolled up medical report, a sharp “No talking in class, Janice” accompanying it. At least he’s treating me more like normal now.

\- - - - -

Unfortunately Doctor Cox seems to revert to weirdness and, by 1400 we’ve just finished rounds I know I now urgently need to talk to him. I just forgot the answer to a question Doctor Kelso asked and Doctor Cox practically threw himself in front of the impending telling off.

“Say, Bobo, exactly why weren’t there more betas on shift yesterday? It’s not _exactly_ that surprising that Daphne here doesn’t remember the right diagnostic for checking for Choledocholithiasis when she nearly got flattened trying to treat a coding omega by Sanders there, who appeared to decide he was a rhinoceros, which arguably is still of more use to society in general than a surgeon who can’t control his basic bodily functions.”

He’s rolling his eyes alarmingly at Sanders, who’s looking bashful and like he wants to be invisible, which is a bit of a challenge when you’re 6’4” and built like a tank. I breathe a sigh of relief again that Doctor Cox managed to intercept him and inch away from Sanders slightly, knocking into Elliot’s arm.

Doctor Kelso is clearly not impressed with Doctor Cox bringing that up in front of the staff. “Well, Perry, there were more betas on shift. As I’m sure you’ve heard, they couldn’t get through to the ER because of all the alphas congregated there, which you – from all accounts – did a terrible job of getting to move. I can’t be blamed for your inability to get the alphas to do what you tell them, that’s _your_ job, not mine. Are you losing your touch?”

Oh no, oh God, he basically just called out a dominant alpha in front of a huge number of people. As the most senior dominant alpha on the staff Doctor Cox is expected to keep all the rest of them "in line". We all freeze, desperately hoping that Doctor Cox is like a T Rex and if we don’t move he won’t see us.

Doctor Cox bares his teeth at Doctor Kelso, in a weird imitation of a grin, intentionally showing his canines. “Boberoo, I know that as a beta you might not get this, but even a _truly_ impressive specimen such as myself can’t make an entire room full of alphas back down, there’s not enough pheromones in the damn pharmacy to achieve that.”

“That’s a point, maybe we could make a sort of pheromone bomb we could deploy the next time something like that happens…” Elliot says thoughtfully next to me. Everyone stares at her in horror for interrupting and I slowly shuffle back away from her to get out of splatter range. She realizes what she’s done a second later and stares wide-eyed at everyone.

“That’s actually not a bad idea, Barbie,” Doctor Cox mutters grudgingly.

Elliot’s interruption appears to have defused the situation and Doctor Cox absently dismisses us all. I hang around, trying to figure out a way to get his attention, since apparently my glaring at him and telepathically shouting _“stop being so weird, people are noticing”_ has failed magnificently. It’s just making me look slightly constipated. I try it again anyway.

“Hi JD.”

I jump about a foot in the air and look up to see that Sanders is next to me, having apparently come over whilst I’ve been staring furiously at the back of Doctor Cox’s head. I unintentionally take a couple steps back from him.

“Hi.”

I had planned to say “hi <your name>” but promptly realized I’d either forgotten his first name or never knew it.

“Look, I just want to say sorry for yesterday. That was really shitty of me.”

“Oh.” I look at him blankly. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Do you want to grab a drink some time? I know this great bar downtown and-“

Apparently the way to get Doctor Cox’s attention was to have Sanders talk to me, since now he’s appeared at Sanders’ elbow with the same crazy eye rolling expression he had earlier.

“Newbie! Come!” He stalks off. I roll my eyes at Sanders.

“Sorry, apparently I need to have a psychopath be demeaning to me right now. Rain check?”

Doctor Cox whistles and I hurry after him.

\- - - - -

Geez, this is annoying. I really need to keep myself in check. Bad enough that I just went for Bob when he asked Newbie a pretty basic medical question. If Newbie hadn’t clearly been daydreaming about bunny rabbits and pop rocks in the immediate moments leading up to the question then he probably would have had a shot of saying something intelligible, rather than just staring at Bob like he’d never seen a be-horned satanic minion before in his life and briefly looking terrified.

Bad enough I did _that_ utterly inexplicable thing, but worse that when Sanders spoke to Newbie I had a sudden and extremely strong urge to murder him and smear him all over the ward. I told myself it was because JD seemed to back off a bit and it was a protective thing, but that wouldn’t explain why when Sanders asked Newbie to go for a drink I had to basically swallow down a growl and demand he come with me.

I still feel angry and like I’ve eaten something that quite strongly disagrees with me. Newbie’s trailing behind me and I turn and roughly shove him into an empty treatment room, kicking the door shut.

“Oh, well, at least you being shove-y and angry looks normal,” he mutters.

Ah, he’s picked up on that too, has he? Explains why he’s been glaring at me like he’s got his panties in a twist all morning.

“Sorry to interrupt your social calendar there, Jessica, I know what a butterfly you are.”

_I promise, I didn’t do anything weird and inappropriate with your clothing last night and I certainly didn’t wake up this morning feeling sickly ashamed of myself._

“Why are you being like this now but on the wards you’re calling me ‘JD’ and checking I’m alright? Doug asked me earlier if you’d had a nervous breakdown. I’ve been expounding a theory that the omega yesterday has upset all your alpha sensibilities, but that’ll only last so long.”

“I can’t help it,” I growl at him, pissed. He rolls his eyes.

“What were you saying before about weak alphas blaming their actions on biology?”

“Don’t go there, Newbie. You’ve got as much blame in this as me, I didn’t want to find you on that roof.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want you to find me there either. Just forget it, okay? Pretend like you think I’m a beta again, it shouldn’t be that difficult, the pheromones are all back under control again. Just forget it.”

“That’s easier said than done, Newb. And like I said, I’m responsible for you so-“

He groans. “You aren’t responsible for me. I’m not a child.”

“And like I said, I’m screwed if you get found out, so _yeah_ , I’m responsible for you. But you’re right about how I’m being, I’ll stop it. I think I can rein it in.”

“How kind of you,” he mutters sarcastically.

“And don’t be a moron and go for a drink with Sanders. We don’t need any more alphas taking any kind of interest in you, no matter how much you might want to practice your ‘Mrs Sanders’ signature.”

Shit, I just said ‘any more alphas’, implying there’s already one interested. Fortunately he didn’t seem to pick it up and just gives me a disgusted look. “I get that a fair bit, they’re usually trying to find out how to ask Elliot on a date and whether I’ll help them.”

He really is an idiot if he thinks it's all completely innocent. Alphas want to - and are encouraged to - screw everything. And even looking full beta he's sort of... pretty. In a girly way. Obviously. Not in an _attractive_ way. Not at all. No. He's annoying and clingy and - and stop staring at his stupid mouth and do something. I pull a face at him. “Well, my apologies Tiffany, I didn’t realize you were so valued as a wingman. Or wingwoman. Or something.”

I’m pretty sure he just muttered “wingomega” to himself.

“That sounds like a timepiece,” I point out.

“Whatever.”

He tries to push past me to the door.

“Did you speak to your alpha?”

He pauses. “Er, yeah. I did.”

“And…?”

He looks incredibly guilty for a moment, apparently trying to calculate whether he can get to the door before I can catch him.

“Don’t you dare, Newbie.”

He slumps in a defeated posture with a muttered “fine…” and I relax, leaning back against the wall. Which is when the little bastard suddenly leaps into action, bounds out the door and is half-way down the corridor before I get out the room.

Shit.

\- - - - -

Me chasing Newbie over half of Sacred Heart wouldn’t exactly be unusual and I’m quite tempted to do it, but after an initial pursuit I’m caught by Bob and by the time I’ve been chewed out and told to “stop being a rabble-rouser, Perry” I’ve basically lost the will to function any more. I’ve stationed myself against a wall with my hands up behind my head and staring rather blankly in front of me. In addition to this, Newbie’s made himself scarce and apparently is some sort of champion hide and seek veteran from childhood. I’m pretty sure I’ve caught him in my peripheral vision a couple times, but when I look back he’s vanished again.

Although, I probably shouldn’t be surprised by that. I wondered how he always conveniently went missing before when I was pissed with him and clearly he could smell me coming. It’s actually pretty unfair he hid that home advantage. And, of course, I can’t smell him any more.

He’s pissed me off to the extent that I’m half tempted to go and create one of the pheromone bombs that Barbie suggested and deploy it to flush him out, but that seems slightly extreme. Little bastard isn’t getting away with it though, we _do_ need to talk about all this shit. I don’t quite know what prompted him to Houdini out of there earlier, but presumably he doesn’t want to talk to me about his alpha. Tough shit, Newberama, nahwt gonna drop this.

The weird thing is, he doesn’t smell bonded. There’s _something_ there, some sort of attachment pheromone, but it’s not a bond or not a standard one anyway. And he doesn’t seem to have been bitten either. And what's with his various beta girlfriends? I mean, I'm assuming he did have some form of nerdy sex with them? What, his alpha has allowed him to have pheromone-free sex? That’s potentially some weird relationship going on there, although I can’t talk, I wasn’t bonded to my ex-wife. That was more out of biological incompatibility though. It could be something to do with his medical cover, maybe he found an alpha who he agreed to be with but not bond to until a certain point. Marriage or getting promoted to Chief of Medicine or the Mets winning the World Series or something.

If he’d gone further into heat I might have been able to figure it out. Omegas start broadcasting all kinds of information then through their pheromones, bonded status, mated status, fertility levels, hell, some of them can even put out a sort of “minimum standard” they have for an alpha. An omega equivalent of “you have to be over this height to get on _this_ ride”.

What kind of alpha lets their omega run around unchecked in another state? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a Brenner and, utterly useless though Newbie is, I know omegas don’t need an alpha to look after them. Most of the time. But if something goes wrong how the hell does that work? For God’s sake, Newbie’s been (badly) injecting himself awkwardly because he can’t properly reach where he needs to. Which must really fucking hurt. He can’t tell when his pheromones are starting to be released without doing a blood test on himself. Until it’s too late anyway, he clearly realized what was happening in the ER just in time. And presumably if he gets anxious or distressed he just… well, is anxious and distressed, which usually screw up omega pheromones and make them depressed. Responsible alphas are supposed to deal with shit like that.

What’s clear is that Newbie’s alpha is the most irresponsible, foolhardy, useless, moron _loser_ in the whole fucking-

“Good Lord Perry, if I have to deal with any more of this omega shit then I will go into early retirement and have Baxter come run this place.”

I freeze, my eyes widening slightly. I then double-check I haven’t been ranting aloud rather than in my head, keeping my hands laced behind my head.

“What’s that there, Roberto?”

“That omega’s family are kicking up a fuss.”

He’s come and leant against the wall next to me, which I’ve not noticed since I’ve been internally monologuing rather than doing anything useful. I frown.

“A fuss? What can they make a fuss about?”

“Well, not exactly a fuss. They’re being difficult though, wanting to come in.”

“Why would that be an issue? Either let them in and see the poor mangled thing in the morgue after warning them or just say no.”

“They’re pretty influential Perry. That girl was Amber FitzAlan. You may have heard of the family?”

I shrug. “I’m kind of more one of the hoi polloi, Bob.”

“The FitzAlans have a massive winery, own half of the Californian plantations. They’re well-known as having vast amounts of money and giving their children goddamn terrible gemstone names.”

“So let them in? What harm will it do?”

“Apart from the mother being dominant omega? And Amber apparently had a twin sister, another dominant omega. Then the father’s dominant alpha and there’s two sons as well I believe. Guess what; dominant alphas. So we’ll potentially have a load of distraught dominants and a lot of pheromones _and_ then we’ve got all the idiot alphas here who will make everything worse. What does that all add up to?”

“A clusterfuck. Or a pheromone soup that’ll make Barbie’s planned alpha bombs look like a gentle fart.”

“Exactly. Obviously I’m not a monster, I know they want to see their daughter, but they’re refusing to wait to see her in a funeral home. There's apparently some lawyer in the family, as you'd expect, giving them advice on exactly what you can and can't do. They also want to see the doctors who treated her.”

“Well, that’s… unusual.”

“The very rich usually are.”

“Just say they’re not on shift when they come in. Or that they don’t want to talk about it, presumably Barbie, Newbie and Lemon Cake Nurse can’t be made to talk to them?”

“Lemon Cake Nurse?”

“Yeah. She makes good lemon cake.”

“Perry, why are alphas obsessed with food and sex? Anyway, no, we can’t make them. It might be good if we did though, highlight that we didn’t have a load of horny alphas treating Amber, that we did everything by the book.”

I briefly wonder if having an omega treat an omega would be viewed as positive or negative, but it’s pretty much a moot point.

“We’re generally obsessed with food because it’s often quite difficult for us to have that full-pheromonal sex we're driven to constantly want. Food is more achievable.”

“I really don’t need a running commentary on the weird internal workings of alphas, Perry, you’ll put me off my meatloaf tonight. I know you all think you’re hard done by because there aren’t enough omegas, you should just settle for slightly dissatisfying sex like the rest of us.”

“Newbie was pretty upset about what happened with that girl.” Understatement. An omega dying in front of another omega is pretty traumatizing for them, we’re probably lucky he wasn’t on the roof howling. “You may want to not include him.”

This is partially true, but I’m more concerned about what the pheromone soup might do to him.

“I’ll ask Doctor Dorian about that, not take your considered opinion on it, Big Guy. You’re overly attentive to that goofy little bastard, let the baby bird develop his wings.”

I decide not to point out that Newbie’s considerably taller than Bob so I’m not sure where he gets calling him a little bastard from. I’m allowed to do that, not him.

“That is kind of my job.”

“It’s your job to teach them, not humor them trailing around after you like lost puppies.”

Yeah, I am so screwed if Newbie gets caught. I briefly consider just telling him, wondering what that would sound like. _“Hey, Bob, you realize Newbie’s not actually a beta like you, he’s an omega and been fooling us all for the last few years, I bet Sweaty Teddy just spontaneously combusted outta fear from the number of law suits that are potentially heading our way if this gets out.”_

But, of course, I’m not going to. Not just out of some misplaced loyalty and protectiveness to JD, but also because what he said yesterday was true. Nothing that’s happened to him is fair or right and yeah, it does suck that he isn’t “out and proud” or whatever, but realistically he never could have been. And I’ve always prided myself on doing the _right_ thing rather than the procedural or legal thing, I can’t live with myself if I don’t. So if I break that now then who am I? Someone who only does the right thing when it’s convenient, that’s who. An asshole.

I shrug. “What can I say, Bob? I enjoy kicking lost puppies when they trail around after me.”

“You are one sick son of bitch, Perry.”

I grin.

\- - - - -

I am an _absolute_ ninja.

I mean, I’ve managed to avoid Doctor Cox for a total of four hours, the first part of which he was definitely actively trying to hunt me down. He seemed to give up after a while and then just remained stationary, possibly because he thought I’d eventually go past him or he just got tired and decided the wall needed propping up. This issue is that I’ve been constantly trying to search for _his_ pheromones, which means that unfortunately I didn’t have much bandwidth for the ones I usually try to avoid.

Which is why I’m currently hiding in a stall in the restrooms, hoping the Janitor will get bored of emulating mopping outside soon and give up. Sadly he seems considerably more determined than Doctor Cox and is loudly extolling the virtues of urinal cakes, every so often muttering “I know you’re there Scooter, be a man and take your punishment”.

I have absolutely no idea what transgression I’m being punished for, but that doesn’t seem to usually make any difference to the rabid squirrel that operates his brain. I determinedly cross my legs whilst sitting on the closed toilet seat, dragging my feet out of view from him looking under the stall. _Touché, asshole_. I can play this game out, I got plenty of practice of this at high school before I presented when Dan and his friends would hunt me during recess. I’m a waiting _champion_.

I’m sat like a yogi calculating whether I can scramble up and over the top of the stall and out the door before he has time to catch me when the door opens again and, dammit, there’s the guy I’ve been trying to hide from. Or, well, the other guy I’ve been trying to hide from. I freeze up.

“What are you doing in here, Lurch? Because, God help me, I’m pretty certain that these washrooms haven’t been cleaned since 2006, so I’m damn well sure you aren’t doing your job.”

Ooh, distraction. I press my ear against the stall wall carefully, trying to identify exactly where he is so I can drop down behind him. I silently raise up onto my haunches and tense.

The Janitor scoffs. “Really? Because these urinal cakes sure look fresh to me.”

He’s talking about urinal cakes, he’s distracted, he’s distracted, _go go go._

Rather than try to be silent, which seems pointless, I jump up and rebound hard off the left hand stall wall to give me enough momentum to vault over the right. Unfortunately I miscalculated where Doctor Cox was and landed on him rather than behind him, sending him sprawling forwards and straight into the Janitor and presumably a load of urinal cakes.

I know that I’m going to seriously regret it, but can’t help doing a very brief victory dance, with an accompanying cry of “Janitor bowling!” before running out of the washrooms. An unpleasant combination of “dammit Newbie, get back here!” and “seriously Scooter, now I have to pick the stall lock” follows me as I determinedly sprint for freedom.

\- - - - -

Carla and Turk are both in much better moods than last night when I return to the apartment. I kept the headphones in during the evening constantly playing my tracks on loop so I drowned out any sounds of arguments and then potential make up sex. Arguments have always made me feel on edge and I didn’t really want to hear them getting it on, I have to pretty regularly block that out. They aren’t exactly quiet.

I woke up with one of the airpods dug painfully deep into my ear, damn things. Also with my face still smooshed into Doctor Cox’s T shirt, which I then carefully put back in the vacuum packaging, although it didn’t smell of much any more. I should probably launder it and give it back to him, despite my wanting to go nest it somewhere again.

“Heyyyy Bambi.”

“Hey Carla.”

She immediately starts quizzing me for gossip from today whilst Turk rolls his eyes and starts clattering around in the kitchen.

“Hang on, I’m just gonna go shower, I’ll give you the down-low in a few minutes.”

“Dude, how often do you need to shower? You do it more than Carla.”

“What can I say Turk, I take good care of myself for laydees.”

Also, I smell like hospital. And urinal cakes. And I need to top up the pomegranate body wash in case the stupid pheromones start leaking again or whatever.

After I’ve showered and changed into jeans and a shirt I come back and join Carla on the couch to update her on the gossip of the day; not much, apart from Doctor Cox calling Doctor Kelso out on the lack of betas yesterday and the tense stand off afterwards. I describe Elliot’s distracted comment and then do an (incredibly accurate) impression of her facial expression when she saw everyone staring at her afterwards. Carla’s nearly in hysterics, although manages to get herself back under control.

“So, I guess it’s good he raised it.”

“Yeah, although it just seemed to give Kelso an excuse to alpha bash. Well, bash Doctor Cox’s alphaness, anyway.”

“Bet Perry loved that.”

“Baby, why are worrying about what other alphas feel? You should be worrying how _I_ feel.”

Carla rolls her eyes at me. “Don’t tell anyone, Bambi, but alphas are incredibly clingy. They pretend it’s the omegas, but we’re _so_ less needy.”

Turk gives her a despondent look. “Right, because I’m just here making dinner for you while you gossip with JD. And I’m needy?”

“Ooh, what’s for dinner?” I ask, leaning back over the couch.

“Oh, I’m cooking dinner for my beta as well as my omega am I?”

“Yeah,” Carla joins me leaning over the couch.

“I’m not his beta,” I point out, slightly sullenly. “I’m my own man.”

Again, technically not a lie. In fact, I’ve corrected the comment that I'm a beta. If you squint.

“Actually, you’re in my household so you kinda are mine.”

“Well, it’s a joint lease so that makes you mine too, Turk. Anyway, what’s for dinner?”

“It’s in my name, Mr “I Have No Credit”. Seriously man, am I just some insanely talented kitchen maid or something? Make your own damn dinner.”

My credit’s fine, but omegas aren’t allowed to rent.

“Yeah, but if you’re already making something then it’s not that hard to just add a little bit extra.”

“Make your own dinner, JD.”

“But I’ve been at worrrrrrk.”

“Baby, make Bambi food too.”

There’s a knock at the door. Carla and I both stare at Turk, who looks back at us, exasperated.

“What, I have to get the damn door too?”

“None of my friends like coming here because it stinks of alpha,” Carla points out. “So it won’t be for me. And JD has no friends, so it won’t be for him.”

“True dat.” I acknowledge, reaching for Carla’s copy of Cosmo. She swats me off.

“No, we’re doing your quiz together. I want to know if you’d suit a bikini or a tankini more and I know you’ll cheat if you do it on your own.”

“Yeah, because I want bikini.”

The knock reappears, considerably more violently. We both pointedly stare at Turk, who throws the ladle down into the pan with a clatter.

“So, Bambi, is your best feature A. Your rock hard abs, B. Your firm butt or C. Your personality.”

“Is there nothing about soulful eyes in there?”

“You’re totally getting tankini.”

Turk opens the door and then groans. “JD, you deal with this.”

I don’t need to look over to know who’s there. In fact, I may have been able to smell him before he even knocked on the door. “No…”

“Newbie, come on. We’re going drinking.”

“At least you aren’t wearing a onesie this time, dude.”

I look over at the door and the horrifying presence at it. “I don’t want to go drinking.” I fish around, trying to think of an excuse. “I haven’t had my dinner yet.” I abruptly realize how puerile this makes me sound and hope it’ll disgust him so much he’ll go away.

“For the last time JD, I’m not cooking you dinner. Go get something greasy with Doctor Cox in some dive bar.”

“I can’t go outside with him, Turk. He’ll murder me as soon as I’m out of your protection, I kinda caused him to fly into a load of urinal cakes earlier.”

“Yeah, you did Newbie and those damn things definitely were nahwt fresh. So stop pissing me off more by taking so long to get off your ass.”

“Sorry dude. You did say you weren’t my beta, you can’t change your mind now you want me to intervene.”

“Poor Bambi.”

I roll my eyes and go retrieve my sneakers and then my messenger bag.

“No need for the purse Delilah, we aren’t going uptown.”

“It’s a manbag, actually. And it’s got… uh, I need something from it.”

It’s got my pills in, something I really can’t afford to miss taking after what happened yesterday. I pull a thin jacket on against the likely Spring chill and then sling the messenger bag over my shoulder. I look back mournfully at my roommates.

“If I don’t come back I want to be cremated with Rowdy. Neither of you deserve him.”

“C’mon Natasha.”

\- - - - -

Doctor Cox is staring at his cell as we stand outside the apartment block, apparently tracking the Uber that he’s hailed. I’m priming myself to start running again, scanning around looking for a good option. He’ll be able to run me down on open ground, I need something with obstacles I can hop over or zig-zag around that he’ll inevitably fall over. Alphas can’t corner well.

His hand abruptly falls on my shoulder and I flinch.

“Don’t even think about it Newbie. I’m tired of chasing you around or having you dropped on me all day.”

“I didn’t _mean_ to drop on you.”

“Uh huh.”

“I was supposed to land behind you. I miscalculated.”

“So what was the little dance in aid of?”

I shrug. “When you’re in the shit you may as well submerge yourself?”

He laughs humorlessly. “Well, we’re definitely both in the shit.”

Oh, he wants to start talking about that already? I shuffle over so I can see his cell display and am relieved that “Raul (4.5 stars)” is one minute away.

“Wow,” I comment.

“What?”

“I’ve never seen a customer rating of 1 star. What did you do?”

He glowers at me. “I was my charming genuine self, Newbie.”

I have a sudden urge to say something insulting and so bite my lip. I really can’t afford to be in any more shit.

\- - - - -

“I can’t believe I never realized you were an omega.”

“Nobody else did.”

“I can’t believe everybody hasn’t, considering you drink _those_ things.”

I glance at the appletini. “Hey, it’s like a martini. James Bond drinks martinis, he’s like the most alpha of all alphas.”

“I would have thought you’d try to avoid anything like that if you were trying to hide.”

“As I said before, it didn’t _start_ with me trying to hide. It just kind of happened. And I guess there’s a certain amount of double bluff going on, I’ve got a lot of omega traits and it’d be exhausting to try to manage myself like that. People think I’m way too girly to be an omega pretending to be a beta. Someone trying to hide being an omega wouldn’t have a unicorn journal. I guess? Anyway, I hate beer.”

“Fair enough.”

“It makes me gassy.”

“Delightful.”

I sip the appletini and look around. We’ve gone to some bar on the outskirts of town because “I don’t want anyone to see us together, Newbie, that would just be too embarrassing no matter how much you’d love to journal about it later”. It’s dark and sticky and smells of stale beer and even staler alpha. The barkeep looked utterly bemused by my request for an appletini so I might have to switch to something else next (maybe cider, that’s like an appletini and a soda water had a baby and at least isn’t yucky beer).

“So, why did you make like a rabbit earlier?”

“Which time?” I ask, distracted, watching the other patrons suspiciously. He flicks my ear and I hiss and look back at him.

“The first time. I presume the second time was because the insane Janitor had run you to ground in the washrooms.”

“Yeah, he’s got one hell of a waiting game.”

“Nice vault, by the way. Wouldn’t have thought you’d be quite that athletic.”

“Yeah, well, I did gymnastics at high school. Only thing I was allowed to do, apart from ballet and I wasn’t doing _that_.”

“So… earlier?”

I shrug. “I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“So you ran away? And you’re telling me that you’re completely responsible and sensible and I shouldn’t be worried about you doing something dumb and blowing this whole thing?”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“You mean apart from me easily being able to find you later on and the fact you got so distracted hiding from me that you left yourself at the mercy of a psychopath? Sure, it just went swell.”

“Look, I just… kinda got uncomfortable. To be honest I don’t really want to discuss this whole alpha thing with you and my alpha wants me to discuss something else with you and… it’s all embarrassing and makes me feel infantilized, if you must know. And-“

My watch bleeps.

“Hang on.”

I scrabble around in my messenger bag.

“What? Do you turn into a pumpkin if you don’t do something at 2100?”

“Kinda. I need to take a pill.”

I grab a hydreastarneite tablet and dry swallow it. I ruin the effect by choking slightly and having to gulp some of the appletini down afterwards.

“So, I had been assuming you’d been getting those from the Sacred Heart pharmacy, but I guess not since the pharmacist gave me the strong impression they’re not needed there.”

I nod and cough roughly. Bastard things are huge, I shouldn’t have tried to show off. When I speak my voice is slightly hoarse.

“No, it’d be too obvious if I got them from there. If someone was regularly taking dominant omega inhibitors from the pharmacy I figured someone might notice. I get them from pharmacies around the city.”

“But they’ll be ones you’re prescribing, I presume? So it still links back to you eventually.”

Oh, shit. I glance at him quickly and he narrows his eyes. “What?”

“So… well, I can’t prescribe them for myself, you need to be a more senior doctor to prescribe them. Also, the name is a bit obvious; Doctor Dorian prescribing for Mr Dorian? Doesn’t look great. And, yeah, it would all link back to me. So… er, I…” I trail off.

“What have you done, Newbie?”

“I… I may have.... _borrowed_ some sheets from prescription pads from senior doctors at Sacred Heart.”

“You’ve done what?!”

Shit, he’s pissed. Unsurprisingly.

“Only for one prescription. I never use the same doctor twice as I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.”

He sighs. “Have you used one from me, you little thief?”

“Yeah… about a year and a half ago.”

“Dammit, Newbie.”

“Sorry… I’ve used Kelso’s as well. And Doctor Wen. And Doctor Beardface. And Doctor Townshend before he got given an early bath by Doctor Kelso. So I tried to make sure I didn’t use the same person twice and I use different pharmacies each time. Or rather, my alpha uses different pharmacies each time. I’m not allowed to get them.”

He frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Omegas are only allowed inhibitors if our alpha agrees with it. Literally, they have to collect them for us, we’re not allowed to make that decision for ourselves. The only time that hasn’t been the case was when I got them off the black market when I was in college.”

“Okay, so ignoring the fact you just admitted to stealing and falsifying prescriptions and purchasing illegal medication, you said your alpha checked on you every few months.”

“The prescriptions are for 6 month periods, he collects them for me. We make sure there’s a stock of them if anything happens that means he has to skip a visit.”

“Also, you said you couldn’t prescribe for Dorian. That wouldn’t be a problem if your alpha’s collecting the meds, not you.”

He’s looking at me suspiciously. I’m pretty sure he’s already putting two and two together and making Dan, so sigh.

“Yeah. So… that’s the thing. My brother’s my alpha.”

I flinch, awaiting the explosion. I’m not disappointed.

\- - - - -

“Your brother?” I say flatly. He nods, not looking me in the eye.

“So… I’m going to interpret this as you actually have another brother you’ve never mentioned and you are _not_ saying that _Dan Dorian_ is your responsible alpha?”

“I only have one brother.”

I stare at him. He is apparently currently fascinated by his appletini, despite him drinking most of it when he started choking on his meds. He very determinedly is not looking at me, despite my glare being so intense I’m surprised he hasn’t burst into flames.

“Dan.” I say, without inflection. He nods again and then swallows down the rest of the appletini.

“Yeah, Dan.”

I drop back onto the booth and groan, pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes. Christssakes, I am relying – in fact, my career and likely any chance of me ever continuing in medicine or being in any state of solvency – is relying on a scheme that has _Dan Dorian_ as a pivotal piece. Even the idea of JD having some stupid alpha mate somewhere who was either completely besotted with him or just a complete idiot still gave me more comfort than Dan _fucking_ Dorian. But yes, this makes sense, the weird bond-but-not-a-bond pheromone, Dan showing up every few months to annoy him, Dan checking out his workplace, _hell_ , Dan telling me to look after him, oh my God, why didn’t I pick up on that?

I have apparently been sat silent for long enough that Newbie’s become uncomfortable. “Um, do you want another-?“

“ _Dammit,_ Newbie.” I slam a fist into the table, making him jump back and several of the other bar patrons glance over.

“Look, I’m sorry, it’s not quite as bad as you might think.”

“Really? _Really_ , Newbie? Are you saying that Dan’s not an irresponsible loser excuse for a recessive alpha? Did I horribly misjudge him?”

“He’s… he’s not quite as bad as… okay, _some_ of that’s an act. Unfortunately not all of it. Dan hasn’t planned any of this, it’s mainly me. He just helps out.”

I stare at him for a second. “Yes, I do absolutely need another drink. Scotch, Johnny Walker black if they have it.”

He nods and practically flies out the booth. I feel slightly bad for snapping at him and make an effort to calm down before he comes back, clutching a scotch and a cider, apparently deciding another appletini would push me over the edge.

“Sorry, I don’t know if you take ice or-“

“Don’t care.”

I knock it back in one go and he stays awkwardly standing. “Um, do you want me to get you another one?”

“Not right now, Newbie. Sit down, you look like a nervous stripper the way you’re standing in a place like this.”

He sits down. “So, Dan’s not quite as much of a loser as we both suggest he is. For one thing, he’s not a bartender. Or he’s not just a bartender.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“He’s a realtor. He used to bartend when I was at college and he got to know my friends that way. We told Turk he came to visit me to annoy me and steal my girlfriends, but he was just checking on me. And often stealing my girlfriends. He thought Turk would be a good alpha for me, actually, kept suggesting I see where it went with him…”

He’s rambling off course and I growl at him. He shakes himself slightly. “Sorry. Well, he still is a bartender but he does that at nights and then he’s a realtor by day. Does pretty well at it, actually, he’s got a good business going.”

“So why pretend? And why keep working nights at a bar?”

He sighs. “We pretend because him being a useless brother and only able to keep down a job at a bar and still living with my Mom gives us an excuse. One, that he is so annoying and visits me all the time. And two, that we’ve got no fucking money.”

He looks angrily at the cider and gulps some down.

I frown at him. He’s an attending, the salary isn’t amazing but it definitely shouldn’t leave him and his family destitute.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t _want_ them to have to keep supporting me and I do my best and usually I don’t need to ask, but I know he’s trying to keep as much money as possible available if it’s needed. Or if we need legal support if something goes wrong…”

He trails off and then looks up at me. At my bemused expression he sighs and gesticulates at the pills in his bag.

“Do you know how much that stuff costs? Alphas control omega inhibitor pharmaceutical companies and they want the price to be exorbitant to try to dissuade us from taking them. I mean, it’s ridiculous, I got a scholarship to UCSF, but I’ve got crippling student loans because I had to spend so much money on meds. My brother had to support me through getting them during med school because I couldn’t get a part time job then, it would have been impossible. And now…” he laughs bitterly. “ _Now_ I’m in my early 30s and still have roommates and I barely buy _anything_ and have to moonlight at clinics and I’ve been avoiding getting a service for Sasha because I’m pretty sure she’s not road-worthy any more. And I _still_ have no money, but at least I’m not relying on my family to fund me now. God help me when Carla and Turk decide that they want the apartment to themselves and try to eject the third wheel, I’ll end up living in a tent.”

He’s delivered his entire rant whilst glaring furiously at the cider in his hands. I’m pretty sure that’s the most I’ve ever heard him say in one sitting and it’s certainly the most angry and despondent I’ve ever heard him.

“How much are they?”

He sighs. “For six months? Ten thousand dollars and I'm sure there'll be another price-hike soon enough. And no insurance, omegas can’t get insurance, we just get put on our alpha’s insurance and no insurance company would shell out for omega inhibitors.”

I whistle softly. “Steep.”

“You’re telling me.”

“Okay, so maybe Dan isn’t _quite_ as much as a loser as I’ve been led to believe. But, Newbie, he’s still not exactly Mr Responsible.”

He shrugs. “I know, but quite frankly I lucked out having Dan as my alpha. He tries his best to help me and he’s as supportive as he can be. He does check on me, you know. He tries. He could have just sold me off to the highest bidder when I turned eighteen and be living in a condo somewhere on a beach right now.” He sighs. “He wasn’t happy when I told him what happened.”

“I can imagine not.”

“He wants to talk to you about it.”

“Good.”

“He… he also thinks I should have made something a bit clearer yesterday.”

I look at him expectantly. He bites his lip and then apparently spits out as fast as possible: “I’m unmated.”

Okay, wasn’t expecting that. “You’re a virgin?”

“No, I’m not a fucking virgin, alright? I’ve had sex with plenty of beta girls.”

“Can you do that?”

He rolls his eyes. “Obviously. I’m biologically pretty much the same as a beta male, at least externally. If I get exposed to pheromones it gets a bit… different, but otherwise, yes.”

“But isn’t that…” I trail off and he lifts his eyebrows at me.

“Isn’t that what?”

“Well, presumably it’s not satisfying for you?”

He glares at me. “Was having sex with Jordan satisfying?”

“None of your goddamn business, Newbie.”

“Then it’s none of your goddamn business about me. I’d imagine it’s similar. Doesn’t maybe meet whatever biological imperative that my stupid body seems to want sometimes, but I enjoy it.”

He sighs and knocks back some more cider. “When I was younger I used to think of all the omega stuff as something separate to me, resented it and didn’t accept it as part of me. I’ve grown out of that since, figured that it’s me and I can have weird urges and I can either accept them or ignore them if it’s something I don’t want.”

Oh. I’ve apparently not managed to grow out of that stage. Bit of a slap in the face to realize Newbie’s more mature than me. I try to be tactful.

“Um, so what? Are you trans or something?”

He rolls his eyes. “How politically correct of you. No, I don’t think so. Secondary gender trans stuff seems really confusing from what I can see, but no, I don’t… I don’t feel wrong being an omega, I don’t not identify as one, I just hate how it affects my life. I feel sorry for anyone who is secondary gender trans, that must be an absolute nightmare. I’ve heard of betas being it and being on pheromone sprays and things to try to feel more right. That must be hell.”

Is he actually currently feeling sorry for trans betas when he’s basically hit the genetic lottery for “worst position ever”? Little weirdo.

“But then why haven’t you mated with anyone?”

He shrugs. “Because I’ve never met anyone I wanted to mate with.”

“What about Gandhi?”

He gives me a quick glance to check I’m not teasing him. “I don’t… feel anything like that towards Turk. He’s my best friend, I’ve never had any urge for anything different with him. Much to Dan’s disappointment.”

“But if you’re on inhibitors then would you feel that?”

“Um. Yeah. They don’t stop that.” He flushes and looks away from me. “I’ve occasionally had crushes on alphas. Never really enough to do anything, because it always seemed too much of a risk to be worth trying. But yeah, my omega still gets a boner sometimes.”

“How charming.”

“This is why nobody’s mated with me. I’m not a catch, I’m crass and I’m awkward and nerdy.”

“Yeah. I’m sure it’s that and not that literally no alpha knows you’re an omega.”

He frowns, looking back at me, still blushing slightly. “Are you _complimenting_ me? In a sorta back-handed way?”

“Dunno, I’ve clearly had too much scotch if I am.”

We sit in companionable silence for a little while, him drinking his cider and me absently playing with a beer mat. He unexpectedly breaks the silence after about ten minutes.

“Anyway, I don’t want someone to like me just because I’m an omega.”

“That’s fair enough.”

“Not sure how I’d know if that was the main reason or not though.” He sighs. “I know this is really messed up, before you say anything. I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into it.”

“That’s alright, Newbie. I’m deciding that it’s educational. If it all goes to shit I’ll write a paper on you and sell it to a reality TV series, they’d love it.”

“You can come visit me in my jail cell and interview me.”

“Omegas don’t go to jail.”

He laughs, but there’s no amusement in it. “That’s where you’re wrong. Omegas are all in jail. You just can’t see the bars.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those MCA readers, the bad clam basically reappeared in this chapter. 
> 
> Incidentally, JD is being honest when he says that he doesn't lie to anyone about being an omega to Doctor Cox. You'll note he never actually says he's a beta when he's talking to Elliot in the early part of this chapter (JD actually refers to "the betas" at one point, very mildly implying that he views them as a separate group to him, but doesn't do so obviously enough for Elliot to pick up on). This is because he's a sneaky little weasel.
> 
> Also, I can't find any reference to where JD and Turk studied in canon, so I decided on San Francisco, since it's in California so sort of makes sense that they'd do their residencies in Cali.


	6. 06. My Grieving Visitors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honour of Doctor Cox, I edited this chapter whilst drinking Johnnie Walker Black. This pretty much embodies my writing methodology.
> 
> Good luck to Anna.s in your tests!

**My Unorthodox Treatment**

**by RumCove**

**My Grieving Visitors**

Disclaimer: Scrubs original characters belong to Bill Lawrence and NBC/ABC/Doozer Productions etc. Basically, not owned by me. I own the original characters in this work.

I’m getting ready for my shift, half remembering the discussion I had with Doctor Cox last night and hoping like hell he didn’t pick up on my reaction when he asked if the inhibitors blocked attraction to alphas. I’d nearly blurted out “well, have you _noticed_ how I am around you, clearly they don’t”, but managed to bite down on it.

I’ve never even really tried to lie to myself about that, I’ve always known I’ve had a shitty omega crush on him. Not that it really matters or that I’d do anything about it. Occasionally I’ve had them before, usually to someone a bit older and with some sort of authority over me – really not sure if that’s daddy issues or just an omega thing or maybe it's both. And always dominant alphas, because apparently I’m quite selective about who I get the pheromone-hots for.

Admittedly, once at college it was to a guy my age who looked like a model and maintained his physique by going to the university gym and inspired me to start doing calisthenics to basically just stare at him. He once did weight lifting with his shirt off and I thanked God for the inhibitors because I thought otherwise I may have just gone into heat from the sight of it.

I always felt embarrassed around this kind of thing. Not necessarily because I was generally panting over alpha guys, because that was just nature combined with there being relatively few dominant alpha ladies. I figured that I couldn’t really be blamed for that and it was pointless to worry over it too much. Like I said, I _really_ enjoyed having sex with beta girls and didn’t really go through much of a sexuality crisis, I was just me and it was pointless to kid myself. I could get crushes on men and women, it just happened. This seemed to make me slightly weird for both a beta and an omega; betas are usually assumed to be predominantly attracted to only betas of the opposite primary gender whilst the general belief is that omega males are attracted to alpha guys exclusively. Which is yet another stupid, incorrect belief; just because alpha guys tend to get a bit of a thing for omega guys and the omegas don't get a great deal of choice in the matter. Dominants don't anyway. Alphas don't find it acceptable for omegas to ever be with anyone other than alphas; they find beta-omega relationships almost intolerable; it's a "waste" of an omega. I suspect an omega-omega relationship would utterly blow their minds. Double the wastage.

Of course, all alphas are viewed to be attracted to everything and anything and aren't judged for who they screw, unlike betas and omegas, who get comments if they vary outside of the "norm". Only betas ever get called heterosexual, homosexual, bisexual, etc. since alphas and omegas are usually categorized by their secondary gender. Which is stupid. Most of us have started to get crushes before we present (I certainly did, although I was pretty late), it's just assumed that omegas should change who they're attracted to in order to fit what society expects of us. It's honestly exhausting and another part of how dehumanizing I find the whole thing. "Oh, you were what you thought was a heterosexual beta male? Ah, but you've presented as omega, you should only find alphas attractive now." I'm not disputing that I _do_ find alpha guys attractive - the pheromones are there, after all and functioning fine in that regard, even on inhibitors - just it seems like I'm supposed to suddenly stop finding anyone else sexy? What? That makes _no_ sense.

So, no, getting crushes on dominant alpha guys didn't really bother me. What _did_ bother me was that I essentially enjoyed looking at alphas. It made me feel like I was somehow lecherous and I got the distinct impression that omegas weren’t supposed to act like that. It made me feel like some weird sexual predator.

And also, I didn’t try anything with anyone. Me telling Doctor Cox that was because I hadn’t wanted to wasn’t strictly true. I did sometimes want to, sometimes wondered what it would be like. But it would have given everything away, even under inhibitors if I’d mated with an alpha then I would have… well, y’know. Slick and stuff. It’s just a biological response, the inhibitors don’t stop that. The risk was way too high to ever satisfy any brief curiosity and I made sure it never developed into anything beyond a crush. I'd keep the hell away from any alpha I'd started to feel that way about to remove any temptation. Normally I did, anyway. Doctor Cox... was different. I mean, he's my boss, I can't exactly not engage with him. And I kept telling myself it wasn't a crush, _obviously,_ I wanted to learn from him. He's a good doctor.

_So's Doctor Beardface, but you don't want to spend all your time with him. You listen to his advice and then go do other things, you don't trail around after him, hang on his every word, desperately trying to insert yourself into his life however possible. Because he doesn't look like that or smell like that or have those eyes and you don't get that feeling in your stomach when he's praising you about-_

Alright alright, omega boner. Like I _said_ I don't deny I have a weird omega crush on him. It doesn't mean a thing.

And the other thing was that me being unmated made me more valuable. I hate thinking of myself like that, but it’s the case. I didn’t want to say in front of Doctor Cox that me being unmated meant my dowry would be exponentially higher. I didn’t want him to think of me like that. I don't think he does and I have no intention of ever saying anything that might make him think like that - God, that would be agonizing. To see him _look_ at me the way people looked at me after I presented, judging me entirely by one thing, valuing me only as an omega. That'd be devastating, I'd rather he think of me as myself and judge me as annoying and clingy and whatever than he think of me like that...

But it’s something I need to keep in mind because if this all goes to shit then we might just need that money for legal representation.

I sigh. This is a pretty depressing start to the day. Until recently I didn’t think about this stuff, everything seemed in control and I didn’t need to worry. Now it seems constant. I glance in the mirror, twisting mousse through my hair and checking the overall result. I grin; it’s looking awesome.

I remember reading something about omegas enjoying grooming themselves and frown. Oh, just fuck off…

My cell bleeps from my bedroom and I wipe the sticky hair product from my hands before I go through and pick it up off the bed. I have a WhatsApp message from an unknown number with a profile picture of a bottle of scotch. I open it and read the message:

_Newbie, don’t come in today. You’re sick. Ok?_

I look at it blankly and decide not to take the “you’re sick” personally. I don’t think I said anything too weird last night, so it’s presumably not related. I’m guessing something’s happening today that he thinks I should try to avoid.

I send back a thumbs up emoji, which I suspect he’ll find exasperating. Then I sit on my bed and sigh. I seem to have been benched.

\- - - - -

At least the whole damn family haven’t come in. FitzAlan, his wife and one of his sons have arrived, all well dressed and practically stinking of money. And pheromones, of course.

I’m honestly not sure why they brought the woman. She’s barely standing upright, supported almost entirely by FitzAlan and clearly utterly distraught. She's slender and willowy, long pale hair in waves down her face with green eyes that seem overlarge in her face from the grief, shadowed and somehow dull, even though they still have the strange dominant omega glow to them. She's dressed entirely in black, the rich fabric of the material somehow adding to the depth of the color against her pale skin and light hair. There’s a soft, mellow rose fragrance coming from her, similar to her daughter although somehow muted. I inhale again and frown; she must be sedated. There's a weird edge to it, as well as the way the scent is so muted.

“Doctor Kelso, I’m Roger FitzAlan, my wife Marcie and my eldest son, Mica. Thank you again for arranging this.”

“Mr FitzAlan, once again please accept my condolences at such a sad time.”

Bob’s doing a passable impression of a decent human being, it’s quite impressive. He ruins it slightly by glaring at me and hissing “Where’s Dorian?”

“Off sick.”

Barbie and Lemon Cake Nurse are lined up awkwardly at the reception, looking like they’re about to meet the President or something. I step back from my position near Kelso, not wanting to give the impression I was involved; Mica’s already staring at me, a weird look in his eyes.

“This is Doctor Reid and Nurse Lemmons.“ _Oh, she’s actually called that_. _Or has me mentioning lemon cake scrambled with Bobo's brain?_ “They both treated your daughter on her arrival. Doctor Dorian also treated her, but unfortunately he’s off sick today.”

“What’s Dorian?” Mica interrupts, practically growling. Kelso pauses for a second, apparently thrown by the question. I bite my lip, wanting to respond with “ _good question, Mica, shall I list it for you alphabetically or thematically? Annoying, gawky, nerdy, completely lacking in physical coordination, the owner of a “hair-met”, terrified of pennies, girly, needy, clingy…_ ”

I’m interrupted in my internal rant by Bob. “Doctor Dorian’s one of our attendings.”

I wonder if Bob intentionally misunderstood Mica. The kid looks like he’s about to explode so I interject:

“He’s not an alpha, if that’s what you’re asking. No alphas treated your sister.”

Mica nods and backs down slightly, glancing at his mother who’s staring at the two women in front of her with glassy eyes. When she speaks she sounds breathless, confused:

“What was wrong with her?”

Barbie glances at Kelso for reassurance and he nods at her.

“Your daughter was brought in exhibiting severe bleeding from multiple lacerations. We tried to treat the wounds, but she was hemorrhaging from the neck and her blood loss was more than she could recover from. She went into heart failure. Doctor Dorian tried to defibrillate her, but she was unresponsive. He declared her dead at 1633 when she failed to respond to two resuscitation attempts.”

“And when will she be better?” Marcie FitzAlan sways alarmingly on her feet. Barbie’s mouth falls open for a moment and then snaps shut, glancing at Kelso again.

“Mr FitzAlan, do you think your wife should see your daughter right now?” Kelso asks.

FitzAlan glances at her, looking distressed. “I’m hoping that if she sees Amber then it might get through to her.”

“Maybe if she wasn’t tranquilized then she’d know what was happening?” I suggest. FitzAlan frowns at me, tired blue eyes narrowing.

“She _isn’t_ tranquilized, it’s shock.”

Oh, that’s weird. Never heard of that before, although omegas being distressed does tend to have some impact on their pheromones.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever heard of shocking someone out of shock being an effective treatment.”

Barbie pipes up. “What Doctor Cox means, Mr FitzAlan, is that your daughter… doesn’t look like she did. It may be worth waiting until the funeral home can prepare her and it might not be so distressing for all of you.”

Actually, that wasn’t what I meant at all, but it’s a fair point.

FitzAlan looks uncertain, running a hand through his reddish-brown hair and glancing between his reeling wife and son, who’s stoically glaring at Barbie, likely because a beta just told an alpha what to do. Even if she did do it in a neurotically nervous manner.

“Let’s just get Mom to see her, Dad. It’s bad enough with Io being insane, Mom needs to snap out of it, she might get sick soon if she doesn’t. And maybe we should get some _proper_ legal advice on all this.”

I’m finding the kid annoying (and was that a legal threat? Sacred Heart could do with some proper legal advice too, but all we've got is Teddy the anxious attorney), but he does have a point. The weird muted scent isn’t healthy and suggests Marcie FitzAlan is no longer regulating her pheromones properly. Which could trigger all kinds of other health problems for an omega.

Bobo has taken them down to the morgue and, despite us all having other things to do, we’re all pretty stationary. Unfortunately we don’t have to wait long for a reaction. Marcie FitzAlan’s screams reach us in reception before they stop abruptly. Then she starts to howl, a long, drawn out, mournful wail.

I shudder automatically at the noise. “Barbie, get some sedatives down to them.” I hiss, but the howling stops suddenly.

A few minutes later FitzAlan appears, carrying the insensate Marcie FitzAlan in a bridal lift, his face pale, the son reeling behind the two of them. There's practically a pheromone fug around all three of them, reeking of distress and anger. We all stay out their way.

\- - - - -

Newbie isn’t due to be on shift tomorrow.

Normally this would fill me with delight that I’ll get a day where he _isn’t_ following me around prattling about koala bears and Butterfingers or whatever. But the thing with Marcie FitzAlan freaked me out slightly today and now…

Well, now I’m sat in the Porsche outside his apartment, wanting to go in and check on him. Wanting to check he doesn’t have that weird, glassy expression and muted scent. Which is ridiculous, because actually he does usually have that weird glassy expression and he smells of nothing because of the inhibitors.

Even if I could concoct a half-decent explanation to myself about why I want to see him, Carla and Gandhi would definitely find me visiting weird. Newbie’s been off sick before and I’ve not made a house-call. If they weren’t in then it wouldn’t be quite so bad, I’d just tell Newbie I was doing my job as his de facto responsible alpha. He wouldn’t really be able to argue and I’d be able to stare at him briefly in the weird, stupid way that I want to.

I growl and pull out my cell, sending a message to “Annoying Little Bastard” in my contacts list.

_You ok Newb? G &C tell you about today?_

He replies almost immediately: _Yeah, they just told me. I see why I was sick today, didn’t know you knew about that kind of thing._

I frown. What kind of thing? And clearly they are in, so I can’t go see him. Dammit.

I reply with: _?_

Another message back within a few seconds: _Tell u l8r_

I’m not sure if he’s suddenly switched to “text speech” because he’s typing in a hurry. I sigh, growl and glance back up at his apartment before driving home.

\- - - - -

“There’s a pure omega outside.”

The jock surgeon is almost nauseatingly excited by this. I frown at him.

“What?”

“A little omega sat on the bench out there. It’s like Christmas, I’ve not seen any in my life and now I’ve seen three in the span of a few days. This one’s alive too, which is an improvement on the first.”

“Seriously, Todd?” Barbie snaps.

He shrugs. “What? It’s good for the omega to be alive, right?”

I squint through the glass doors, trying to see if the moron’s gone insane or there really is someone out there.

“Did you talk to… him? Her?”

“Her.” He grins. “And, oh yeah, I _talked_ to her.”

“You mean you hit on her and she told you to get lost?” Barbie clarifies.

“Yeah…”

“What’s she doing out there?”

“She didn’t say.”

I move out from the desk and towards the door. I’m surprised by Barbie moving ahead of me and giving me a rather pointed look, before demanding:

“Uh, what are you doing?”

“Well, Barbarella, I was planning on going out there and figuring out what the hell’s going on.”

“Uh huh. And you think a dominant alpha approaching a dominant omega who’s already been pissed off by _the Todd_ is a good idea?”

I shrug. “I can’t be much worse, right?”

“Well, nothing can. That’s a low bar. How’s about a nice, unthreatening beta female approach her with an alpha hanging around behind her?”

“Am I auditioning for the alpha hanger-oner?”

“Depends, how quiet can you keep?”

“Not very.”

She shrugs. “Meh. You’re probably still the best of a bad lot.”

\- - - - -

The omega is sat on a bench. Or, more accurately, the omega is sprawled on a bench.

Her stance is possibly the least omegan I’ve ever seen, reminding me sharply that Newbie doesn't actually hide that sort of thing; he sits in a tightly controlled way, doesn't _sprawl_ the way most guys do, even when I've seen him drunk there's that weird control over himself to not fully relax. This omega has her elbows hooked over the back of the bench, her arms elevated and her wrists limp, her hands dangling. She’s extended one leg stiffly in front of her and has folded the other over it, her leg at a nearly ninety degree angle. She’s twitching her elevated foot, apparently in time to a beat she can hear through headphones connected to her cell. Her head is back, apparently staring at the sky, her throat completely exposed.

Technically, Doctor Bullshit is quite correct. She is a “little” omega, probably no more than 5’4”, slim and petite. As we approach she straightens up and looks over at us, pulling the headphones out as she does so.

I pause, thrown. Barbie hears me stumble slightly and looks back at me, before moving over to me quickly.

“What, just because she doesn’t look all demure it’s confused you?”

I don’t want to admit as much, but yeah, basically.

The omega on the bench looks _nothing_ like a stereotypical omega. She definitely is omegan, that much is clear. The glowing green eyes are there and she’s small and dainty. She has sharp delicate features, very feminine and slender, long boned arms and legs framed with slim, almost artistic hands. However, she’s apparently done everything in her power to highlight that she’s nahwt a blushing violet and to undermine any assumption of vulnerability. Her henna-colored hair is cut short and spiked up like a Japanese cartoon character, dyed white blonde at the tips. She’s put heavy, muddy eye make-up on, multiple piercings up her ears in vivid, rainbow colors and a hoop in her nose. 

More striking is the odd black choker she has on over her neck, a cage-like device on the right hand side, covering her scent gland, presumably a sort of bite chastity belt for omegas. She’s wearing black leather fingerless gloves and a short sleeved black leather jacket over a slashed dark gray vest top, finishing the look off with denim shorts over dark leggings and utterly ridiculous colorful boots, the wedge heels looking seven inches high and decorated with soaring birds in relief against the inky wedge.

Omegas generally wear floaty clothing, covering as much as possible and so they can’t be accused of “flaunting”. I’ve seen some of them look essentially like walking tents and they still get catcalls and comments. I’ve never seen one dressed like this, one actually _highlighting_ her figure.

“Sorry Barbie, she’s just giving me flashbacks to a badly-misjudged Led Zeppelin concert I went to in my youth.”

The omega smirks at me and I’d guess she heard that. Barbie rolls her eyes at me and then carries on walking over to the girl, me trailing after her like some guard dog. Speaking of, there’s two dominant alphas standing around nearby. They’ve got the look of professional thugs and I suspect that they’re linked to the omega somehow.

“Hi,” Barbie says to the girl cheerfully. She looks up at her.

“Hi.”

Her voice is high, somewhat reedy. There’s a slightly lackadaisical undercurrent to it, a drawl like she’s too tired to enunciate properly.

“Did our friend bother you? I’m sorry if he did. He bothers everyone.”

“Oh, him? He was funny.”

“Not many people would find him funny.”

The girl frowns. “Well, I thought he was funny. Not intentionally so, maybe.”

I’m annoyed at us not really getting anywhere, so step forward, getting what is essentially a face full of omega pheromones and grimace. She smells… familiar, she smells very familiar.

“Hey… American Idiot? Are you something to do with the FitzAlan family?”

She grins at me. “Oh, you speak? Apart from disparaging my appearance. Yeah, you’ve got a good nose.” She stands up abruptly and gives us both a slightly manic smile. “Hey. I’m Iolite FitzAlan, I believe that you’ve met my parents. And my sister. Briefly.”

Of course she is, she's got the same vivid green overly large eyes as her mother and sister. There’s a mercurial shift in her expression, a sudden, deeply pained spasm twitching across her before she seems to focus again and resume her benign smile.

“You’re Amber’s twin sister?” Barbie asks softly.

Iolite nods.

“Are you alright? Only… well, we were told that you weren’t coping well.”

“I’m fine.”

She gives Barbie a suspicious glance. I sigh and then decide to cut to the chase.

“Pearl Jam? What Doctor Tactful here is trying to ask you – and failing miserably to do so – is why you’re out here.”

She frowns at me. “Well, maybe I’m waiting for some basic courtesy? I told you my name – even if you don’t seem to want to use it - but I’ve no idea who either of you are.”

Barbie lets out her awkward, embarrassed laugh. “ _Oh_ my God, I’m _so_ sorry. Hi, I’m Elliot. Doctor Elliot Reid, I work at Sacred Heart, I’m a private practice attending which means-"

"That she has no soul." I supply, slightly bitterly. Barbie frowns at me, then continues:

"I’m a beta and I come from Connecticut.”

The girl glances at me, presumably expecting some similar "dating profile" blurb.

“I’m Doctor Cox.”

Iolite lifts an eyebrow. “And that’s it?”

“That’s all you need to know, Soundgarden.”

“He’s the attending physician of internal medicine at Sacred Heart.” Barbie tells her. I sigh loudly and dramatically, so she adds: “And he’s an alpha, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Hard to miss.” Iolite looks down at her hands, then looks up at us again. It’s a nervous gesture I’ve seen Newbie do a hundred times and try not to react to it. “Did… did either of you help my sister?”

I glance at Barbie. She looks uncomfortable, but replies “I did. And another beta doctor and a nurse. We tried our very best, Iolite. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Do you know what they did to her?” Iolite’s voice has lost it’s reediness now, a furious undercurrent to it, her face twisted in rage. “Do you know what those bastards did?”

“I… I saw. I am truly sorry.”

“Because she went for a _walk_. Because my sister went for a _fucking_ walk in the park. She wasn’t like me, she didn’t dress like this or act like this. She… she was sweet. She was the sort of person who’d smile at a stranger to brighten their day and ignore it when the fuckers inevitably said crude shit back at her. She didn't ever even _react_. She didn't do _anything_ to deserve-”

I see Barbie start to mouth some new, useless platitude and interrupt her. “I’m sorry, kid. I’m sorry that happened to your sister and I’m sorry that you’re having to deal with it. There’s no excuse for it and I hope they find who did it and they go to prison for one hell of a long time. But you sitting on a bench outside some shithole hospital isn’t going to help with that.”

“Actually, it might. I’m a civil rights vlogger.”

“You’re a what now?”

“Video blogger,” Barbie chimes in.

“I’ve got a pretty high following, although a lot of them are just alphas getting off. I try not to read the comments. I thought…” The girl's expression flickers again briefly, a glimpse of lost confusion on her face before she closes it down again, replacing it with the weird neutrality she's clearly manufacturing. “I thought that I could raise awareness. The cops are already saying it’s likely to be death by misadventure and that we should get legal representation in case the municipality decides to prosecute us for public disorder because my sister was on their land when she went into heat.”

Barbie makes a horrified noise, but honestly… it’s not that I don’t care, it’s that I don’t see what this little rich kid thinks she can do. Even her appearance shows her utter privilege, no normal dominant omega would be able to dress or act the way she does, there's a damn _reason_ there's two bodyguards hanging around her. I do have a pang of sympathy that her perfect world of puppydogs and kittens has fallen apart and she’s seen the ugly truth of everything, but she doesn’t seem to have processed how little difference she can make to it, despite her position. She’s basically the opposite of Newbie, his tired cynicism rather depressing but oh-so-much more realistic.

There’s also something… _wrong_ with her. Something about her facial expressions, something about her smell. I don’t know what it is, but it makes me intensely uncomfortable.

“Then why not go sit at the park? That’s where it happened, all that happened here was we tried to save her.”

Barbie makes another horrified noise, this time at my apparent lack of tact, but I’m tired and Mudhoney’s presence seems to be putting me on edge. She doesn’t seem overly upset by my directness.

“Because the park won’t let me. After what happened to Amber they banned any dominant omegas from using it. And you _can’t_ make me move from here, the bench isn’t on the hospital’s land.”

“So you’re going to… what? Sit on this bench and make videos?”

She sits back down stoically. “Basically? Yes.”

There doesn’t seem much else to say now. Barbie and I glance at each other and I shrug and start walking back to the hospital. I hear Barbie asking the girl if she wants her to bring her a coffee as I stroll away.

\- - - - -

I'm told that over the next few days Iolite appears sporadically on the bench, usually once per day although she seems to vary her timings. Sometimes she’s there for hours, other times just a few minutes.

On the first day that Newbie and I are both on shift together (marking day 6 from the roof incident, not that I'm counting) I intercept him and drag him into the cafeteria.

“You. Coffee. Now.”

“What?”

“Focus, Newberoo. And go get me a coffee, I don’t function this early without it.”

“What kind of coffee?”

“Just a black coffee.”

“You mean an americano? Or an espresso topped up with-?”

I practically throw him at the till and collapse onto a chair. I’m not interested in listening to JD prattle on about the difference between cappuccinos and lattes today. They’re the same damn thing anyway. He wanders back over a few minutes later with a coffee and some frothy concoction for himself.

“I just asked for a Perry Cox special. I think she probably spat in it.”

“I’d prefer that to fucking caramel drizzle.”

He glances at his own drink slightly guiltily at that. Great, so he’s going to be hyped up on sugar and caffeine all day, which is pretty detrimental considering he already has the attention span of a dazed toddler. He sits down opposite me.

“So, what did you want? Apart from apparently to make me buy you a coffee and to tell me I was sick the other day. I’m assuming that was because the FitzAlans were in, rather than me making some faux pas the night before?”

“I’m used to you making the fauxest of pas, Newbie. Your entire damn existence is a faux pas. Yeah, it was about them.”

“Okay. Well, yeah… Thanks.”

“Before you started sending me messages apparently written by a teenager you mentioned something about not expecting me to ‘know about that’ or something similar. What did you mean?”

“Oh. Why did you think I shouldn’t see the FitzAlans?”

“I assumed the dominant alpha and omega pheromones might knock you back off track.”

“Yeah, I thought that might be it. It was worth avoiding, but actually I thought you’d heard about the weird rumor that dominant omegas can recognize each other, even if they’re using suppressants.”

“I heard that at one point. I thought it was bullshit, like bonded couples becoming telepathic.”

“Yeah, me too. Until I saw the way Amber looked at me.”

Oh. “Definitely a good thing you weren’t in then. Although I don’t think Marcie FitzAlan would have noticed if you’d been a particularly spiky potted plant, to be honest. Speaking of, what the hell’s happening with your hair? You look like a mousse explosion.”

He glances up at it. “Yeah, it’s pretty voluminous, right? I think it’s from the whack of omega hormones from last week.”

“Christ, Newbie, you actually look happy about that.”

He shrugs. “Silver linings. A crazy alpha found out I’m an omega, but my hair’s gone hella Wella.”

“And you’re calling me crazy?” I take a sip of the coffee. “Have you seen what I can only describe as the mentally unstable girl on the bench outside the hospital?”

He frowns. “No.”

It’s possible Iolite wasn’t there when he came in earlier. Or he just didn’t notice her because he was daydreaming about haircare products and is an unobservant little bastard.

“Well, there is one. I’d guess mid twenties, short, cockatoo hair, face full of metal, dressed like some sort of punk grunge roadie. Dominant omega, wearing some fucking weird collar. Smells all wrong.”

“I think I’d probably have noticed that.”

“You have more faith in yourself than I do. Anyway, stay the hell away from her. Her pheromones did something weird to me, God knows what they’ll do to you. And if your little urban myth is true then we can’t afford for her to see you. She’s Amber FitzAlan’s twin sister.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah. And apparently her sibling’s death has driven her batshit crazy. She’s doing some video blogging thing. Stay the hell away.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“You could sound a bit more committed, Newbie. I keep feeling like I’m nagging you, the way you respond sometimes.”

“And like I’ve said before, I’ve coped fine up until now. I appreciate the concern – if I can categorize it as that – but I can look after myself.”

I scoff and he looks pissed and probably about to lecture me again about his independence so I get in first.

“Shelve whatever rant you’re about to launch into, JD.”

“Rant? _Me?_ Did you – Doctor Cox, ranter extraordinaire – just tell me to not rant at you? I think I’ve absolutely got a right to rant at you, considering how many of your’s I have to listen to all day.”

“Whatever Newbie, stop whining. I need to talk to your brother.”

“I'm not whining. No you don’t.”

“Yes you are and yes I do. We’ve got to square this whole thing out.”

“Fine, so _we_ can. We don’t need Dan for that.”

Honestly, it’s like talking to a particularly angry child that’s not quite grasped logical thought yet. “You know we need him, Demi. For one thing, I’d imagine he’s as stressed about this thing as I am.”

“I don’t give a shit how stressed either of you are, like I said before, just _forget about it_.”

“And like I said before, you little bastard, you’ve made me be involved. You’ve got two choices here, Newbie and I’m not fucking kidding. Either you do what I tell you or I go to Kelso and the Board right now and tell them about your… chronic condition, as you put it.”

He stares at me and I realize that it sounds like I’m trying to blackmail him, which wasn’t quite what I was aiming for.

“Neither of you own me.”

“I never said anyone did, stop being hysterical.”

He laughs bitterly. “Oh yeah, if you were raising your voice then you’d be being forceful or manly or something. Because I’m doing it I’m _hysterical._ ”

“No, you’re hysterical because you’re entering a vocal range that only dogs and Barbie can hear.”

He’s looking mutinous and I sigh. “Look, Newbie, I’m not trying to be a bastard here-“

“Well, you’re doing a real great job if you aren’t even trying.”

I bite down the growl and glare at him, absently shoving a coil of hair out of my eye line. I’m going to shave the damn stuff off soon, it’s pissing me off.

“I have no choice in this. You involved me. Now, I’m trying to do what will keep us _both_ in the clear here, but you seem to be determined to be the most uncooperative little-“ I’ve called him a little bastard too many times already and I like to vary my material- “the most uncooperative little _Newbie_ that you can possibly be.”

“I don’t like you trying to control my life.”

“I’m _not_. And I don’t like you replying to any request with a flat out rejection, like you’re a six year old I’m trying to convince to eat spinach.”

He makes a disgusted expression. I’m not sure if it’s the metaphor I just used or the idea of spinach.

“Maybe if you expressed your requests as requests rather than demands then I’d be more amenable to not flat out rejecting them?”

“Fine, can you please set up some discussion with you, me and your brother soon?”

“No.”

I glare at him.

\- - - - -

I'm honestly _so tired_ of alphas trying to railroad me into things all the time. Like Dan’s constant messages and calls aren’t bad enough (“has Coxy tried anything?” “are you still all beta chill?” “can you remember where my tax returns are?”) I’ve now got Doctor Cox on my back. “Don’t go near that omega”, “let me talk to your alpha about you like you’re not even in the damn room”, “buy me a coffee, Newbie”.

Well, I got them to put a hazelnut swirl in his damn coffee and he enjoyed it. I’ll tell him that at some point and hope it distracts him with some self-loathing. _Oh my God, I’m actually the same as other people and I just say I hate everything for effect. I secretly enjoy Hugh Jackman movies and now I’m going to have a mental breakdown._ Bastard.

After a protracted discussion/argument/Doctor Cox getting so annoyed with me he ranted for what I think was genuinely a half hour, I grudgingly agreed to contact Dan and see if I could get him to Skype tomorrow night at Doctor Cox’s apartment. I believe the discussion went something like:

Me: I’ll see when Dan’s free and let you know when works soonest.

Him: Tomorrow.

Me: I don’t know his shifts or anything. And I kinda had plans tomorrow. So I’ll let you know.

Him: Tomorrow.

Me: Are you actually listening to anything I’m saying?

Him: No. Tomorrow.

Obviously I’d normally give anything to be in his apartment and him acting like he actually gives a shit, but not like this. Maybe I should switch back to desperate, needy, “I need a mentor” mode, then he might back off. Or he’ll just get annoyed with me and tell Kelso to get rid of me.

Shit.

I think I’d genuinely prefer it if he was being a lech or trying to have sex with me or something. Then I could at least be horrified/appalled by his behavior and not thinking that actually he has a point most of the time and mainly saying no because I don’t want to just give in to every demand. Don’t want to be all _omega_ about it.

_Yeah, that’s totally why you want him to be trying to have sex with you._

Shut up Mr Peeps/omega boner. Nobody asked you, or the annoying urge I keep having to want to play with his stupid hair. I bet it'd feel all sprongy.

I’m sat in the doctor’s lounge, apparently berating my own anatomy and glaring at the TV, occasionally breaking off to daydream about what my boss's hair feels like. I sigh and message Dan.

_Hey Dan. You free tomorrow night?_

I stare at the TV again. What the hell is this show? It seems to be about dating whilst having a terrible meal cooked by one of the daters/datees. I’d be terrible at this, I can’t cook anything. That’s not just me trying to cast against stereotype either, I genuinely think I’d manage to burn a glass of water if I was trying to prepare it as an amusing little starter for a date.

_Hey lil’ brother. Yeah, I’m free then. Want to talk about something?_

I grimace. _Yeah, SOMEONE does. Do you mind talking to him? He’s being weird._

_Sure._

Oh. Dan’s pissed then, I can always tell when he’s pissed. Brief = annoyed with him.

Great, everyone’s annoyed with me. Which seems fair because I think I’m annoyed with everyone right now.

I frown. I’m not sure the suppressants are working all that well currently. I’m not normally this angry and I think maybe it’s the stress of the situation… but I wish I was less annoyed. Omegas don’t get PMS or whatever but something’s thrown me off balance a bit and I just feel a bit less “me” than I normally do. I’ll take all my meds with me tomorrow and see if Doctor Cox thinks I need a top up. Actually, should take a syringe too just in case.

There’s nothing wrong with ODing on the suppressants, apart from the terrible waste of money it represents. A ($10,000) 6 month supply should involve a dose of the much stronger rhysolxin cypionate every fortnight. If this is switched to every week - which it would be if I take another shot tomorrow - then that’s me wasting… like $350 per week? Math hasn’t ever really been my strong suit. Anyhow, it’s a waste. And if I have to switch to taking one dose every week then that means 6 months will cost $20,000 and a year $40,000 and geez, I can’t afford that, I can barely afford it now.

I sigh and try not to think about what could happen if I start regularly needing a higher dosage. Because there’s just no way around that, I simply won’t be able to afford it. And then what?

Then… I guess that’s when I give up. Or… or I have to look into other options. There’s a few things I’ve researched that I could look to do, but I really don’t want to. They basically involve prostitution and no matter how much I love my job I really don’t know if I could do that just to keep…

Oh shit. Shit shit shit shit SHIT. Thank God no one’s in the lounge with me, I’ve just realized that I've started releasing “sad omega” pheromones, I need to stop this now or some alpha will notice it and try and seek out the upset omega and get real fucking confused when they find an apparently watery-eyed beta.

I dry swallow a hydreastarneite tablet (it’s fine, just nearly 9 hours earlier than it’s supposed to be needed, that’s fine, everything’s _fine_ ) and pull myself together. Okay, wait a few minutes for the pill to work and then get back out there and stop thinking about this shit, it’s clearly making stuff worse. Bad enough having anxiety around this, much worse to actively make your anxiety worse by _worrying about anxiety_ , it’s ridiculous.

I take a few deep breaths as I watch Kevin from Baltimore bake a Camembert in the hope it will impress Sarah from New York who already appears slightly tipsy from pre-date prosecco and then hop off the couch and build myself up to the walk to the door. I’m going to go save some lives, do what I love doing, make a goddamn difference.

For as long as I can.

\- - - - -

_Hey, remind me of your address, I’ve forgotten._

It’s the worst delaying tactic I think I’ve probably ever tried, but I do need to try something. I’m hoping that “Dr C” will not reply and I’ll be given a pretty awesome excuse as to why I didn’t show. (“Hey, Newbie, I thought we’d agreed?” “Well, you decided and ignored me saying no. But you didn’t reply to my message and I forgot where you lived. In that time, Dan has moved to China and he’s now 12 hours behind us so we’ll have to figure out a mutually convenient time between California and Hubei, which is about three weeks next Tuesday during your favorite TV show.”)

It doesn’t work either, he just replied within about a minute with the address of his apartment block. Which I’m currently standing outside of with a backpack full of meds and syringes. I feel like a really shitty dealer.

I don’t want to go there straight away or he’ll know I knew where he lived to begin with so go stand in a 7/11 for about fifteen minutes, staring at the glossy magazines and resisting the urge to buy one of the crazy lifestyle ones; “My Alpha ran off with my brother and now I’m pregnant with kittens” etc. I then stare at the rather limp displays of flowers for a while, not entirely sure why. In the end I buy a bag of chips and then – for some unknown reason – I ask the cashier what scotch they have and then ask for some black label.

I don’t understand myself, I’ve basically been blackmailed into doing this and yet I’m trying to show up with some weird little token for him. I think I’ve got Stockholm Syndrome somehow.

I also can’t really afford anything additional to my usual outgoings, but hell, this month looks like it’s already going to be expensive, probably no harm in losing another thirty bucks or so.

If I had more time I’d get him a decanter or something, but he probably wouldn’t need that. “Aw, geez, thanks Sandra, but I never need to decant the scotch, it goes from bottle to throat in around ten seconds. Bottle… throat… gone.”

Also, once again, why am I thinking about this? I’m basically trying to give my captor a love note and… and, argh. And I’m clearly procrastinating and have been thinking about decanters for too long as the cashier is staring at me and rather pointedly waiting for me to hand over some cash. I practically throw a fifty dollar bill at him and escape with the chips and the scotch, the change clutched in my fist and then shoved into my pants pocket.

I have now authentically forgotten which apartment he lives at, so check my cell whilst I clutch the bottle of scotch to myself in the elevator and rehearse how best to present it to him. “Hey, I just had this at home and thought you’d like it…”, “Hey, I saw this at a fancy store for fancy people that I frequently shop at because I’m so _fancy_ and thought you’d like it…”, “Hey I was just panicking outside your apartment and bought this at a sticky 7/11 and now I won’t be able to afford lunch next week…”)

All this preparation essentially means that when he answers the door I proffer it at him and squeak. He looks amused and takes it from me.

“Thanks, Janice. Come in.”

I shuffle in, absently running my hands up and down the straps to my backpack before I pull out my iPad. May as well get this over with, I suppose.

“Can I get your WiFi details and I’ll connect with Dan?”

For some reason I’m hoping he’s the only person in North America who eschews WiFi, but am disappointed.

“Sure, I have one of those ‘guest card’ things somewhere, I’ve no idea where it is.”

He hunts around in a side-table and then passes me a little card with the WiFi details on.

“Thanks.”

I sit on the couch and connect up the iPad whilst trying not to nosily ask him whether he has many guests. I’m assuming not by the fact the card is pretty pristine and he clearly couldn’t quite remember where it was supposed to be.

My iPad connects to his Internet and then cheerfully burbles to tell me that I have notifications from SweetHairHacks and CordieriteComments as well as an email alert that there’s a new medical journal I “might” be interested in. Doctor Cox is leaning over my shoulder at the time and then taps on my screen.

“What updates are those, Valerie?”

“Well, based on previous the medical journal will cost twenty dollars and be dry and unprogressive. SweetHairHacks might be-“

“Not them, Cordierite. I’ve seen that account, that’s the crazy omega, right?”

“Yeah, I’ve started following her to see what she’s saying.”

“What’s that?”

I frown and glance up and him, jumping slightly when I see how close he’s sitting to crane over at the iPad, his chin nearly touching my shoulder, feeling the heat from his body radiating against me. When I don’t immediately respond he rolls his eyes and then snaps his fingers in front of my face.

“Focus, Newbie.”

“Sorry… uh, I’ve watched the last month or so. She’s pretty interesting actually, talks about trying to legally challenge issues around omega rights. A week ago she stopped posting and just put a load of images up of her and her sister, that was actually pretty heart breaking and then there’s just a couple videos from her bench where she’s… well, sounding pretty broken, to be honest. The previous ones were quite focused, she’s pretty rambling in the newer ones.”

Doctor Cox leans over and accesses my Instagram, tapping on an older “CordieriteComments” video. We watch as she calmly talks about legal clause 325 that is an infringement of omega civil rights whilst sat next to what appears to be a pond by a log cabin. Doctor Cox frowns.

“That’s not like the girl I spoke to earlier in the week.”

I’m hyper-aware that his forearm is currently pressed against mine. I shrug. “She’s upset, I guess. Elliot keeps taking her food and drinks and things. She reckons she’s having a breakdown and is pissed no one seems to be looking after her.”

Doctor Cox pauses the video, the omega’s vivid eyes frozen focused on the camera mid-way through a furious tirade. I stare the image on the screen.

“She looks a lot like her sister,” I say softly. He glances at me.

“Does she, Newb?”

“Yeah. Obviously tried to make a point with the fashion to hide it or something, but yeah. The eyes and the face. I guess they were identical at one point.” I press the back button on the browser and open one of her posts, showing photos of her and her sister, Amber looking bashful and demure, Iolite looking anything but. Despite the stylistic differences, they look the same height, the same weight and the faces are identical, just very differently presented. I stare at them, thinking about Amber's terrified expression in the ER, how frightened she'd looked, how alone she must have felt in all her pain and suffering.

A second later I wince when I realize I’m releasing distressed pheromones again. “Shit, sorry. That… that shouldn’t be happening.”

“Yeah, I hate to break this to you Newbie, but you’ve been… you’ve been…”

“I figured I’d call it ‘leaking pheromones’, because that makes me laugh and I _really_ need to laugh at the minute.”

“Yeah, you’ve been doing that over the last couple days.”

“I know. I brought some of my meds with me, I figured we could look at them after we’ve spoken to Dan.”

He looks at me thoughtfully. “You seem a lot less sassy tonight.”

I shrug. “Yeah? Sorry, I’ve been pissed recently and I’m kinda taking it out on you… sorry.”

“I wouldn’t worry, Newb, I take shit out on you plenty, I’ve probably got it coming. I was just wondering if maybe the meds are the reason you’re so stressed out. I’d say from what I can smell currently they’re nearly out of your system and you seem more chilled, so I thought there might be a correlation there.”

I bite my lip, resisting the urge to despondently point out that there should be a week left of the inhibitors before they run out and so I shouldn't smell like they're out of my system, although I'm sure he knows that. Instead I scoff. “I’m stressed because the situation is stressful. I don’t think I need to blame the inhibitors and they’ve never had that effect before.”

He shrugs. “But they’ve always worked fine before, right? Maybe you’re developing an intolerance to them or something.”

I scratch my neck absently at an itch. “Maybe? I could try switching, but none of the other inhibitors are as strong, this is pretty much the only prescription that’s supposed to be reliable for dominant omegas.”

“How long have you been on them?”

“Uh… twelve years? Thirteen? Something like that.”

“And you’re supposed to come off them once every three or four years for a heat, right? So when was the last time you came off them?”

“How do you know that?”

He looks self-conscious. “I may have done some online research. So, when did you last come off them? You’ve been at Sacred Heart over four years, so it must have been… just… before…?”

He’s slowing down as he notices that I’ve stopped looking him in the eye and have started fiddling with the iPad, staring at an Instagram story and have now tactically slid off the couch to kneel on the floor to put the iPad onto it's stand on the coffee table and ignore his trailing question.

“… Sharon? Why am I getting a distinct impression you’re about to say something I’m nawht going to be happy about?”

“Um. Because you’re never happy about anything I have to say? Should I call Dan now?”

“You’re suddenly an eager beaver to do that, considering how against it you’ve been. How long Newbie?”

I jab at the dial option on Skype and it starts ringing Dan as I fiddle with the angle of the camera, not looking back at him.

“Uh, roughly? I guess I last came off the inhibitors about… oh, gee, I guess twelve or thirteen years ago? Oh, _hi Dan_!”

\- - - - -

Little Newbie bastard. I don’t care if I’ve overused “little bastard”, it’s a perfect description for the little rat bastard, who’s still kneeling on the floor from setting up the iPad on it’s stand on the coffee table, apparently having decided that putting some distance between us will stop an immediate furious reaction.

Dan looks slightly confused by JD’s enthusiastic greeting and is glancing between us, a slight frown on his face.

“Hey Johnny. Why’re you on the floor?”

“Because I was setting up the-“

“Your little brother is on the floor because he just told me that he’s not come off his damn suppressants ever since he started to take them. He seems to think he’s out of range there. He’s wrong.” I gently kick Newbie in the ass. Unfortunately I did it just as he was starting to get to his feet and it knocks him over, so looked slightly more violent than was intended.

Dan snorts. “Yeah, he doesn’t like heats.”

JD appears to have decided to stay down for the time being. I frown at him and then drag him back up by the nape of the neck. “Stop playing dead, you’re not fooling anyone Shirley.”

“Don’t call me Shirley,” he deadpans back at me, then wriggles out of my grasp and onto the couch next to me.

“So, apart from some quality Zucker and Zucker references, what did you want to discuss?”

I glower at Dan. “Well, there’s a topic I didn’t even know needed discussing. Why the hell has he not had a break from the inhibitors?”

Newbie opens his mouth to respond but Dan cuts across him. “Because he didn’t want to?”

“It’s not just him on his own though, is it Cupcake? You get the damn things for him, you enable it.”

“Dan did it because I _asked_ him to. And I’ve not come off them because I had finals and things, then med school, then… then I was at the hospital and I couldn’t just come off them then because it’d look suspicious and-“

“Come off it Johnny.” Dan sounds tired. “Your first heat terrified you, stop making excuses. You haven’t come off them because you don’t want to go through that again.”

“I wasn’t terrified.”

“Yes you were. I could _smell_ how scared you were, don't try that. I wasn’t overly keen on it either, to be fair, you smashed my bed up. And the floor. And yourself. A bit.”

I frown. “Why did you smash brother-of-the-year’s bed up?”

Newbie wrinkles his forehead. “It pissed me off. I think I remember being angry at how it smelt. And I didn’t actually smash the floor up. I just… bit it…”

“He’s a really angry little omega when he’s on heat,” Dan supplies cheerfully. “It’s pretty funny. Until it’s suddenly really not.”

“It was… a bit messy…” Newbie mutters and I feel a spasm of pity for him.

“Okay… so I get that you didn’t fancy it much, but there’s presumably a reason that you’re supposed to come off of them every so often, right? You damn well know medical advice isn’t just a gentle suggestion, Newbie.”

He shrugs. “I’d prefer the possibility of drugging myself infertile than going through that.”

“It’s not quite as irresponsible as it sounds,” Dan interjects. “Unbonded dominant omegas have problems with their heats, particularly… uh… um, Johnny, did you tell him that...“

“ _Yes._ ”

“Ah, cool, okay, particularly unmated dominant omegas. They can go into toxic shock, our family doctor very usefully prescribed basically 'alpha dick' when we asked what we could do. He would only prescribe the inhibitors for Johnny when I said I wouldn’t allow him to be mated.”

I look at Dan blankly. “You wouldn’t allow it?”

“It’s not like it sounds,” Newbie says quietly.

“I initially said to the doctor that Johnny didn’t want to just get screwed by some random alpha because of a shitty biological process. Doc told me I should just tell him it was for the good of his health and pocket the money I could make out of it.” Dan briefly looks sickened. “So I said it was my decision, as that’s the only one that would have been respected.”

JD’s 'leaking' again and I growl at him. “Can you please _stop_ that? It makes it hard to concentrate.”

“Sorry.”

Dan frowns. “Stop what?”

“The reason I’m so focused on why he hasn’t come off the damn inhibitors before is that they seem to be –“ I glance at Newbie and then sigh. “Your eyes have gone again, Tessa.”

“Ooh, creepy eyes. Look at the screen Johnny, I’ve not seen them in years.”

JD briefly looks over at the screen and then down into his lap. Dan cackles. “They’re still as weird as I remember. Look, what’s the problem? He’s just been late with his shot, right? He just needs that again and he’ll be fine.”

“I’m not late,” Newbie says, slightly mournfully. “I last had one… seven days ago? I should have another week before this shit starts.”

“Like I was trying to say, genius, the inhibitors seem to be failing.”

“Oh. Oh shit.” Dan comments helpfully.

“Exactly. Look, I can keep an eye on him and try and track it, but…” I shrug. “I’m not entirely sure what to do in this situation.”

I’m starting to get pissed off and although I grudgingly respect Dan for listening to Newbie and trying to help him, he’s still _incredibly_ irresponsible. He’s in fucking Ohio, his omega charge is in California and he isn’t taking this shit seriously. It’s a good thing that Newbie’s a smart little weasel or this duo would have been caught out years ago.

“I feel like I’m trying to discuss this with Dumb and Dumber right now,” I sigh. “Look, Dan, I’m nahwt beating around the bush here. I found out about Monica here and I’ve got no plans on reporting this and want to help, but I’m in charge, alright?”

Dan bristles at that. “Hey, tough guy, this has nothing to do with you.”

“Really, Dan? Because currently your little brother – your omega charge – is sat in my damn apartment with eyes like something from Poltergeist and increasingly smelling like a harvest fruit basket. So I kind of think this _does_ have something to do with me, whether any of us want that or not.”

There’s a pause whilst Dan and I glare furiously at one another and Newbie continues to stare into his lap and gently smell like distress. Dan eventually responds:

“Can you please stop whatever the hell it is you’re doing?”

“What?” I frown at him and he pointedly looks over at JD, who’s continuing to look down at his hands and apparently attempt to shrink in on himself, breathing extremely shallowly. “Am I doing something?”

He nods sharply. I frown and abruptly realize that the room stinks of domination pheromones. I’ve apparently been trying to force Dan to submit to what I want in some sort of fucked up virtual alpha-off and all that’s happened is it’s affected Newbie rather than Dan. Pheromones don't understand the goddamn Internet.

“Sorry. Don’t think I’ve done that since I was a teenager.” I mutter, embarrassed, trying to pull it back under control and apparently succeeding as a few seconds later Newbie relaxes.

“Maybe go stick your head out the window?”

“It’s okay, it’s better now…”

I sigh. “Look, Dan, I need to give him his shot before he starts to go into heat or something. Can you please just agree that I am kept involved and aware so I can protect him and myself as best as I can?”

He narrows his eyes at me. “Sure, whatever Coxer. I’m not formally signing over any responsibility to you though, he’s still in my charge, I wouldn’t trust you with him.” Dan edges closer to the screen, an unusual, deadly serious expression on his face. “And Coxy… if you touch him then I’ll kill you, you get that? Actually, I’ll get $200,000 of your assets off you and kill you. Am I clear?”

Confused, I nod and Dan signs out abruptly.

“What the hell did that mean?”

Newbie staggers upright and over to the window, sticking his head out of it and panting. I walk over to him, feeling guilty. “Sorry. Not sure why that happened.”

“Standard alpha response to another one standing up to you, right?” He shudders and inhales the clean air. “Just it has… an unfortunate effect on omegas, makes us go into that weird submission posture. Or… makes it hard not to, I probably could have fought it off better than I did. Just wasn't really expecting it.”

“Newbie? What did Dan mean about $200,000? I get the whole ‘kill you if you touch him’ thing, but what the hell did that mean?”

“That’s a rough estimate of the value of a dominant omega being unmated. He was sort of joking.”

“What do you mean, sort of?”

“Well, just that. If an alpha mates with an unmated omega without their alpha’s permission it’s technically property damage. Dan doesn’t see it that way, he’s always told me he doesn’t expect me to check with him, but… well, you pissed him off and I think he was making a point.”

I feel nauseous. “I might need to stick my head out the window after you, Newb.”

“Nah, this is mine, go find your own.”

“Where are the inhibitors?”

“In my backpack.” He gestures vaguely behind him with one hand and I go retrieve it from where he dumped it on the floor when he was getting his iPad out. I pull out an apparent first aid kit that he’s neatly arranged his inhibitors into, two syringes, cleaning equipment and meticulously labelled solutions and pill packets.

“Is each solution a single dose?”

“Yeah.”

The syringes look clean but I double-check. “Have you sterilized these?”

“Of course I have.”

“Sorry, didn’t want to give you sepsis on top of everything else.” I prep the syringe, dragging the plunger back to fill it with the solution. It feels viscous and thick and I flinch slightly at how that must feel going into his blood stream. I tap it and depress the plunger slightly to get any air out.

“C’mon Newbie, let’s get this over with.”

He takes a final gulp of air and comes back over to the couch.

“Is this going to make you pass out again?”

“No, it shouldn’t, I was nearly in heat last time.”

He has a point, I can’t smell any of that peppery scent currently. He sits down next to me and pulls at the collar of his T shirt to give me access, rolling his head to one side.

“Hey, Newbie? Look at me.”

He meets my eyes, the vivid, burning gaze making my breathing hitch. I tell myself that I just want to check he’s okay before I drug him back into something he isn’t, it’s not just that I want to stare at him as himself. What the hell’s wrong with me? I don’t usually have this ridiculous reaction to dominant omegas, no desire to gaze longingly into their slightly ethereal eyes.

“You alright?”

“Yeah. Please just use that, it’s really hard not to be anxious when I look like this.”

“Sure. No problem Newbie, turn your head again.”

He twists his neck and I gently inject him, trying not to react to him hissing slightly through his teeth as I do so and then trying to ignore my reaction to him in pain.

“Better?”

He frowns, looking to one side. “You know I said I shouldn’t black out?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I might have been wrong.”

I grab him by the shoulders and then catch his chin when his head lolls alarmingly. “Hey, kid, keep looking at me.”

He tries to, but his eyes roll abruptly back into his head and his entire body twitches. I feel a stab of panic.

“Hey, Newbie, c’mon, focus.”

I hold his face in both hands, tucking my thumbs under his mandible to tilt his head back slightly and keep the airways free. His eyelids flicker and he manages to tiredly keep them open.

“Good, that’s good, just keep breathing.”

“’M dizzy.”

“I know, JD, but try to stay awake, okay?”

“’Kay.”

He groggily looks back at me, the bright, back-lit quality to his eyes slowly bleeding out as I watch. He shudders violently and his body spasms again.

“Newbie?”

He pants and opens his eyes again, back to their usual color.

“You feeling better?”

“Yeah…” he pushes at my hands gently and I release his face, resulting in him slumping down onto the couch.

“My head feels too big…”

“You’ve gone kinda green Newbie, are you going to puke?”

He swallows fretfully and frowns. “I’m not sure. Where’s your washroom? I’ll go hang out there for a bit.”

The idea of him sitting on the cold floor tiles and feeling nauseous and dizzy bothers me.

“Hang on, just sit there and don’t throw up on yourself.”

I grab a bucket and a throw and come back, then pause. He’s no longer looking green and has either fallen asleep incredibly fast from the medication or passed out. He looks comfortable at least, slightly coiled on the sofa in an exhausted sprawl.

I put the bucket down by the couch just in case and then try to rearrange him slightly so his neck isn’t at such a weird angle. When this fails I half drag him upright to put a cushion underneath him, which just has the response of him mumbling something nonsensical and then snuggling back onto the cushion as soon as I put him down. I chuck the throw over him and then pause before I tuck it around him more securely, which I tell myself is entirely to stop him rolling off the couch and into the bucket in the night. Particularly if he does puke.

He purrs very softly just as I finish tucking the soft material around him and I gently stroke his back, eliciting another quiet purr at the contact.

“What are we gonna about this, you little nuisance?” I ask him. Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t reply and I just sit and watch him sleep.

I stay like that for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whilst MCA JD and MUT JD are in some ways completely different (MCA JD is obsessed with eating healthily whilst MUT JD would quite happily eat out of a trashcan if it means he avoids cooking, for example), they both like caramel drizzle. 
> 
> If you're wondering, Cordeirite is the mineralogical terminology for the gemstone Iolite. CordeiriteComments is because Iolite couldn't think of anything that worked as well with "Iolite".
> 
> SweetHairHacks is clearly a very important publication. Also, I am forthwith using the phrase "my hair is hella Wella" when pleased with it.
> 
> The "rhysolxin cypionate" drug is based on testosterone. I once dated a guy who needed to regularly use it and it looked so incredibly painful to have to inject into your bloodstream.
> 
> “And when will she be better?” was a very upsetting line to write. Poor Marcie FitzAlan :(


	7. 07. My Quandary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note on Original Characters; I'm well aware that authors always love their OCs way more than readers. MUT will rely on some degree of OCs supporting the ongoing plot. If readers find these frustrating then I really do apologise and stress that these are essentially progressing the plot (and no porn for you, dear reader, without some plot). I try not to wallow too much with these, as I know that... well, you know, you read Scrubs fic for Scrubs characters. Not random ones I've added to keep things moving.
> 
> Oddly, the "key" OC for me is Amber FitzAlan, who didn't even make it past the first proper chapter. If it weren't for Amber FitzAlan's (horrible) fate then MUT simply wouldn't have happened.

**My Unorthodox Treatment**

**by RumCove**

**My Quandary**

Disclaimer: Scrubs original characters belong to Bill Lawrence and NBC/ABC/Doozer Productions etc. Basically, not owned by me. I own the original characters in this work.

I feel like someone’s hollowed my skull out and is now repeatedly punching me between the eyes. I grunt and then flinch when just doing that seems to make my head try to implode. I pull my arm up over my eyes to block out the sunlight I can feel trying to filter into my eyeballs to dissolve my brain.

“Hey, you awake?”

What? Why is he in my bedroom? Has he broken in because he found out I put hazelnut in his shitty coffee? I may as well make use of him if he is.

“Aspirin.” I mutter. I hear clattering that makes my eardrums throb unpleasantly and then I’m being pulled upright, surprisingly gently. He’s either taken pity on me because someone apparently recently killed me or is trying to lull me into a false sense of security. I try to open my eyes and groan.

“Probably don’t do that, Newbie. Here.” He shoves a couple pills into my hand and I immediately clap my hand to my mouth and dry swallow them. Maybe he just gave me cyanide? Don’t really care right now. I slump back down onto something squishy, planning to go to sleep or just die quietly, slinging my arm back over my eyes again. I hear him retreating and rummaging around in something before he comes back and starts to try to pry my arm away from my face.

“Noooo,” I moan. He ignores me and pulls my arm back so I screw my eyes shut more to try to block out any light. There’s some rustling and then I jump when something amazingly cold is put against my forehead. I whimper to myself in relief.

I’m vaguely aware of him massaging my temples as I drift back off.

\- - - - -

When I wake up again I feel less like I’ve been hit by some sort of locomotive and more like I have a really terrible hangover. I loudly voice my displeasure at my consciousness.

“Are you functional yet or do I need to get more ice?”

I blink my eyes open and stare around the room. Oh, yeah. Doctor Cox’s apartment. Ah, shit, I fell asleep on his couch. I glance down to find a throw has been wrapped around me at some point and wonder how the hell that got there, absently shoving it off me as I furiously blink in an attempt to focus.

“I appear to be at least partially functional.”

“Good, I prefer it in my scotch to melting on your forehead.”

I struggle into a sitting position and look over the couch to find him. He’s sat at the kitchen bar in just a pair of joggers, a cup of coffee next to him and apparently browsing the Internet on a laptop. I feel my mouth go dry at the sight and try to convince myself it’s the lingering headache and not the sight of him naked from the waist up.

“What are you doing?”

“I-“ he stands up and starts pouring another cup of coffee “-am consulting Doctor Google.”

“Ah. Not normally a good idea.”

“No, generally speaking I’d usually say Doctor Google is a quack. But your particular issue isn’t an area I know all that much about – shockingly – so I thought I’d try.”

“How’s that going?”

“Not great. I just keep finding omega porn. This does, incidentally, fit into Perry’s perspective two.”

“I don’t remember that one.”

He tuts at me. “Honestly, Newbie, why do I bother sharing my insights with you if you don’t take down notes and memorize them?”

I'm totally lying, of course I remember in intricate detail everything he's ever said to me. Pretty sure Perry's perspective two is the 'bring back the porn' website in response to them removing all the porn on the Internet theory. I'm not going to admit that though, so reply with: “Good question. Maybe you should stop?”

He rolls his eyes at me and then pads over and passes me the coffee and some more aspirin. I take them and sip at the boiling hot coffee, weirdly distracted by the sight of his feet. For some reason him having naked feet is odd, like I never thought he’d have something quite so ordinary as feet. Also, it stops me staring at his upper half. Even without pheromone leakage, he'll probably pick up on that if I'm apparently staring at his six pack, mesmerized.

“Newbie, if you’ve got some sort of foot fetish and are currently getting aroused then I’m warning you-“

“Sorry. Er, no, I don’t. And that stuff online isn’t omega porn, not really. It’s just betas covered in olive oil.”

He sits on the coffee table and stares at me, confused. “What?”

I shrug. “They aren’t omegas. I’m pretty sure they aren’t, anyway, they’re betas with contact lenses in and… er… lubricated. Pretty sure they use CGI and.. um, mayonnaise for the alphas too to emulate… y’know how an alpha reacts to an omega.” I flush.

“And why is a beta covered in olive oil more likely than an omega?”

“Because… they don’t look quite right? I mean..." I frown, trying to explain it. They just don't look like omegas - I know I don't generally either due to the inhibitors, but it's different to that, it's not just stereotyping. They just don't... look omega. Flustered, I try to insert logic into my odd statement: "Also, how many alphas would allow their omegas to do porn? Alphas get crazy jealous about that kind of thing. Yeah, maybe some are but I think it’s mainly faked. I’ve found omega websites talking about it.”

“There’s omega websites?”

“Sort of. Mainly blogs and stuff.” He’s watching me levelly and I feel a bit awkward. I don’t know why I’m talking to him about porn and omega blogs. To feel less awkward I apologize. “I’m sorry, it’s your day off, right? You’ve had to get up early to try and get the annoying omega off your couch.”

“I don’t dispute your description, Newbie, but not really. It’s midday.”

“What? I’m supposed to be on shift-“

I attempt to get up and am halted my his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t panic, Tracey, I called Carla. Said you’d shown up drunk at my apartment last night, demanding a hug and so I’d punched you in the face and that you were now unconscious on my floor and I couldn’t be bothered to move you.”

“Oh. Great. Did she believe that?”

He grins. “Of course she did. You are kind of pathetic, Newbie.”

I frown. “Shit, it’s midday? I’ve missed taking one of my pills.”

He squeezes my shoulder gently with the hand that he's kept there to try to prevent me from moving and then sighs. “I don’t know if it makes that much difference currently, you know? I’ll get you one, stay lying down. You went… well, you went all wrong last night, do you remember?”

“Yeah…” I watch him get up and then open my first aid kit and retrieve a pill for me. “That’s not happened before either. Or the headache that feels like I’ve been trepanned.”

He glances back at me and then down at the tablet he’s holding. “Are you sure you should take these?”

I give him an annoyed glance. “I don’t exactly have much choice.”

“You nearly had a seizure last night. That’s not just some minor side effect, Annabelle.”

Despite this, he hands me the pill. I try to dry swallow it, then choke as it sticks in my throat, gulping down burning coffee to dislodge it.

“And you don’t notice you’re choking on those things every time you’re taking them? They’re not exactly huge, Newb, the aspirins you took earlier were much larger and you dry swallowed them no problem.”

I sigh and slump back against the couch, looking at him in a defeated way. “Well, what do you suggest? I can’t _not_ take them. Unless you’ve found something that’ll sort all of this out, among all the porn? Or will the porn fix it?”

He shrugs. “Maybe it’d sort your pheromones out?”

“Thanks. I’m not sure jacking off is really the best way to deal with it.”

“Yeah, but…” He trails off and lifts his eyebrows at me. I stare back at him.

“Yeah, but what?”

“Well, although the Internet mainly appears to be full of oily porn, a lot of the sites that _aren’t_ that seem to agree that omegas that don’t go through heats or regularly mate… kinda… go wrong.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s just an alpha delusion. _Oh, poor omegas, need me to fuck them or they get sick_. There’s no medical evidence behind that.”

“What about what Dan said, about heats and what your doctor said? Y’know, your _actual_ doctor, not you stealing prescriptions and self-medicating?”

I frown. “So what are you suggesting? That I go into heat?”

“Yeah, maybe? See if that calms it down, rather than taking inhibitors that are clearly making you sick. Or… uh, or-“

He’s looking uncharacteristically bashful. “Or what?”

“Or… or I could… y’know, _help_.”

I stare at him blankly. “You could help?”

“Yeah. As an entirely impersonal thing here, Newbie, totally altruistically on my part. In fact, basically charity on my part.”

Oh. Oh, he’s making fun of me. I briefly feel like I’ve been stabbed in the gut.

“How kind of you. No thanks.”

I can feel a sense of crushing disappointment and I’m not sure if it’s because he just offered that in such a cruel way or because I just said no. But, I mean, _no_. I don’t want some weird impersonal sex with my mentor who I kind of have the hots for ( _totally have the hots for, absolutely panting for and trying real hard not to stare at his naked chest_ _right now, would it really be that bad for him to help out, it’s practically a medical treatment and he is a doctor_ ), shut up. Imagine the derision on his face then when he looked at me, imagine the smirks he’d make, _God,_ imagine the snarky comments he’d make then about me.

I’d wonder why he offered, but I know why. It’s the stupid alpha fascination. Even someone who seems quite progressive like him has it. It’s nothing to do with me. It’s… it’s just… some sort of status thing. He doesn’t even view me as a human any more, just some… possession. Why can’t he ever just be decent to me?

I mean, it’s either that or he’s been seduced by the hair.

I realize I’m smelling like disappointment and dammit, the stupid things are wearing off already?

“Sorry,” I mutter, looking down at my hands.

“Don’t sweat it, Newbie, I’m aware it’s not the most attractive offer.” He’s stood up and walked back over to the laptop, which is the point that I realize that it's him smelling of a slightly melancholy disappointment, not me.

 _Oh_.

\- - - - -

Alana’s in the shower. He ran off there after I offered to have sex with him.

I wince slightly and am relieved that how I said it could have been taken as a joke. So he probably didn’t realize that I was being serious and so his flat out refusal is a bit less mortifying. I moved away before he could smell my reaction and when he comes back out from there I’ll not mention it and he’ll think it was a shitty joke.

Ugh. I re-heally shouldn’t have even considered that, but… oh, but I can blame pheromones or whatever, but the little bastard had deadened himself and wasn’t releasing any for me to blame it on. I mean, it could have helped him and isn’t that kinda what I’ve been wanting to do ever since I saw the damn kid? Isn’t that why I’ve been pushing him away since the damn moment I met him?

Yeah, that’s what I’ve been wanting to do and that’s why I’ve been pushing him away. Because I wanted to _help_ him, sure. Not that I wanted to fuck him, obviously not. I grin to myself, humorlessly. Obviously not, even if I have screwed alpha and beta guys and gals in the past and so it wouldn't exactly have been unusual before I found all this shit out. Alphas like to fuck everything that moves and sometimes things that don’t, that’s the stereotype, right? Which I absolutely fitted in to when I was younger, although admittedly didn't chase omegas.

Anyway, ignoring where that whole mindfuck just took me, it was a terrible idea to even think about it because I’m trying to look after him. If he thinks I’m going to try and mount him the moment he shows any vulnerability he’s hardly going to come to me if something’s wrong. So that was dumb.

So that’s why it was good he thought I was joking. Not because it hurt and definitely not because it was disappointing and abso-hutely not because I stared at him for about 2 hours sleeping last night and he wasn’t even smelling omega at the time. And he didn’t look peaceful and relaxed and adorable, completely not. No. And I certainly didn't have an insistent, deep pull to sit and protect him. Because with no pheromones there's no damn excuse for that kind of behavior.

I growl and focus on the laptop in front of me. Stop thinking about this shit and do _not_ think about the fact he’s currently naked and soapy. I may have actually found something interesting, anyway. I’ve found a blog by someone who claims to be a male dominant omega. And unlike a load of the other ones I’ve seen, it’s not full of gratuitous posed pictures of some guy trying to look seductive or staring at the camera with glowing eyes. In fact, he doesn’t post many photos at all, only occasionally in one with other people.

There’s also something… JDish about him. Something around the eyes (not just that they're omega - his are a clear shining brown rather than blue - but it's more something to do with the clarity in the gaze and the emotion behind them somehow) as well as his expression.

His blog started out like some of the other ones I’d seen. Gibbering on about traditional 'omega' interests; food, crafting, horticulture. I nearly skipped past it until I saw the entry that really _did_ remind me of Newbie. It was entitled 'Dear fucking alphas'.

It read: _Dear fucking alphas. Thank you for your kind messages in response to my blog which I started writing to show that my husband and I have a normal loving relationship and not weird constant fetishized marathon sex sessions. And thank you SO MUCH for the lovely pictures that you are all sending me! As an omega, I like nothing more than looking at knots and inflamed alpha cock. What else could I possibly want?_

_If you are someone who can only think with your genitals, let me be clear, just in case. I’m being sarcastic. Stop sending shit like that. If you don’t like what I have to write then read something else, don’t send me messages about how I should be naked all day and fucked all night. Quite frankly, that sounds exhausting. I don’t know why you weirdos all think that omegas have that level of stamina when you generally act like we can’t open a door for ourselves without becoming faint from the effort._

_So, yeah. Fuck right off. Thanks v much. Max x_

I glance back towards the bathroom, hearing the water shut off. I was going to ask him to read it and consider contacting Max to ask him about whether he’d ever had a problem with inhibitors; after his 'dear fucking alphas' post he seemed to drop a lot of the artsy fartsy stuff and write more specific content about being a dominant omega. He’s written a post about inhibitors and why he sometimes uses them when feeling stressed, which has a load of comments by (presumably) alphas saying what a terrible idea that was and how shit his husband must be for allowing that. He then replied with: _Thanks, with all these lovely comments I had the perfect excuse to take a load of suppressants and go out drinking with some friends with no one staring at me or trying to grab my ass. My husband was also delighted, he thanks you all too. I had such a good time I came home from drinks and rode him until he screamed. Max x_

For some reason I love the passive-aggressive 'x'.

Anyway, I was going to suggest Newbie message Max, but it feels a bit awkward now. I think I should probably get him out the apartment as soon as possible so we both feel a bit less weird.

Margot’s dicking about in there so I roll my eyes and quickly open a direct message box, channeling my inner Newbie and typing out a message quickly:

_Hi Max. I just found your blog and read your post about inhibitors. I’m on hydreastarneite and rhysolxin cypionate, but they seem to not be working properly. As you can probably imagine, that’s not great. I’m unbonded and I don’t want to go into heat. Has anything like this ever happened to you?_

I pause, staring at the 'From' tab. I can’t type 'JD', that’d be wrong somehow. I smirk and type 'Sasha', then send the message. I then minimize the screen and start looking at the football scores as I hear Newbie come back into the room. He’s standing nervously behind me, I can see him reflected in the laptop screen. He still looks awkward and worried, apparently still unnerved by my earlier offer.

“Uh, Doctor Cox. Thanks. Y’know, for helping. And letting me crash on the couch and covering for me.”

“Yeah yeah, Newb.” I flap a hand at him absently, pretending to be reading an article on the 49ers. “Are you done twittering at me? Only, you’ve _somewhat_ overstayed your welcome and I could hardly kick you out on your ass when you were all limp and pathetic this morning. You seem to have recovered back to your usual state of pathetic limpness.”

“Um, yeah. I think so.” I hear him clattering about, picking up his iPad and first aid kit, shoving them back into his backpack. “Um. Thanks again, Doctor Cox. See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, see you at that hellhole. Oh,” I suddenly remember and glance up at him at the door. “Thanks for the scotch, Melanie.”

He grins at me. “No problem, Doctor Cox. See ya.”

I automatically smile back at him as he closes the door, then frown at myself. Stop that.

I maximize the previous page and am surprised to see that there’s already a private message response from Max.

_Hi Sasha. It’s so good to hear from another D.O.! You’d be amazed the shit I get sent on this. “Dear Max, I just presented and I’m terrified, please describe in minute detail how it feels to have slick pouring out of you and how much you want to get stuffed full of cock so I can get used to it.” Jesus. The things alphas will do to jerk off._

_I’m sorry, I’ve never had the inhibitors fail on me so I can’t really help. I wish I could. That sounds terrible. Can you go to an alpha you’ve mated with before and go through it with them? It might help?_

I sigh. Great, apparently Max is lonely and wants a friend, which seems to basically be the only reason anyone would reply that fast. So now I feel like a bastard, as if Max knew who I was then he’d absolutely not be talking to me. But this might be useful for Newbie and it seems to be making Max happy. I frown, trying to figure out how a clingy, overly emotional, omega-hiding-as-a-beta would respond.

_Hi Max. I can imagine. Why did you write the blog, if you don’t mind me asking? I hate drawing any attention, it’s why I’m on the inhibitors. I like being anonymous._

_I know this is going to sound crazy and my responsible alpha doesn’t get it, but I’m not mated. I’ve never met anyone I wanted to mate with. So that’s not really an option._

Max replies even quicker, clearly sat waiting.

_You’re not mated?? That’s CRAZY! How the hell do you cope when there’s alphas everywhere and yeah, most are bastards, but some smell pretty damn good. Maybe you should try it? Honestly, it’s actually good fun, I know it sounds really demeaning, but really, once you start it’s awesome. Doesn’t even need to be someone you love either, no matter what all those dumb fairytales say. I screwed a load of alphas before I got together with mine._

Oh, that’s interesting. I’d assumed that Max had been sold, apparently not. He’s still typing and a second message appears just after.

_I wrote the blog because when I was initially bonded it wasn’t quite what I expected. Everyone said it was this magical, wonderful experience and it was just kind of awkward and painful. I felt like I was a failure. So did my husband. But we worked on it and now it kind of is everything it’s “supposed” to be. So I wanted other omegas to know. Some get super depressed when bonding isn’t this idealized experience. Particularly when most of us are told that it’s the best thing we can ever have._

My God, he is _still_ typing. There was me thinking Newbie was a chatterbox.

_It’s really nice to be able to speak to another omega about this._

Oh. Well, _now_ I feel like a bastard. I point out to myself that I’m doing this for Newbie and then suddenly think how pissed I’d be if someone was lying to him the way I’m lying to Max, taking advantage of the desire of an isolated omega to reach out and connect with someone similar. I sigh and update the 'From' tab to 'Sasha’s bastard alpha friend' and write a new message.

_I’m sorry, Max. My name’s Perry, I’m an alpha. My friend is Sasha. Sasha’s not doing great at the minute and I wanted to get some help with the situation, but I feel like an asshole now. Sorry._

I send it. There’s no longer any message that Max is typing and I sigh again. Apparently I’m real good at being shitty to omegas.

I've just showered and am putting a shirt on when I hear my laptop making a godawful noise. I hurry back through to the kitchen and find that I have an incoming video call across the DM section of the blog website from Max. I frown at it.

An omega would never call an alpha. So, let me guess, Max is an alpha getting a kick out of pretending to be an omega, some sick kink? And now that alpha’s going to laugh at the gullible omegas with me, presumably thinking I’m similar? I sigh, but hey, this at least will give me some relief. I can tear this bastard a new one and feel better.

I am therefore shocked when I accept the call and the omega from the blog is indisputably staring back at me. His brown eyes are gleaming a vibrant hazel shade, curly dark hair restrained with a red headband in an attempt to keep it out of his eyes, pale skin an almost sickly hue from the glow from the laptop screen, but still undeniably pretty. His eyes are narrowed slightly, one hand clutched in front of his mouth in a thoughtful gesture.

I look at him blankly for a moment. “Uh. Sorry.”

He tilts his head slightly, then shrugs. “That’s alright. You had a good reason. I mean, I assume you did. Is Sasha real?”

“Yeah, he is.”

“Oh,” Max looks delighted. “Sasha’s a boy?”

“Well, that’s debatable.”

Max smirks at me and I feel like I’ve been caught out somehow. He then grins and, once again, I’m struck by how similar his expression is to Newbie’s. There's no specific correlation I can identify or quantify, but it's indisputably similar somehow. “There’s so few of us, you know. I’ve barely met any before.”

“He’s never met one. He reckons all the ones on the Internet are, in his words, ‘fucking betas covered in olive oil’.”

Max bursts out laughing. “Yeah, that sounds about right. You _do_ know a dominant omega, an alpha pretending would never think an omega could be that crude.”

“Yeah, he’s a crass little bastard.”

“And his inhibitors are failing. And has he really never mated?”

“That’s what he says.”

“You can’t smell that?”

“No. I’ve not smelt him in heat. But I believe him.”

“And… why don’t you mate with him then?”

“I did suggest that.”

“And he said…?”

“He declined my kind offer.”

Max sniggers. “That’s a shame. You’re quite hot.”

“You’re telling me, kid. I’m shocked.” I look at Max hopefully. “What can I do?”

“Nothing.”

“What and just let him keep taking drugs that aren’t working? That are _hurting_ him?”

“No. Just trust him to find a solution. You’re asking one omega, why don’t you trust in the one you already know?”

“Because I know that one. He’s a moron.”

Max lifts his eyebrows. “Just talk to him. Preferably without insulting him, if you can manage that. I know you want to screw him but-“

“What?” I snap. "That was completely to help him-"

“Oh, please. Sure, that was just to _help_ him, you realize alphas can't just fuck an omega they're not attracted to, no matter how many pheromones are present? You’ve insulted him twice already to someone you don’t even know. You’re the damn kid in the schoolyard pulling the pigtails of the girl you like and pretending it’s to make her cry when you're entirely doing it because you want to comfort her. Just don’t be a dick.”

I glare at him and he grins at me again. “Do update me on how it’s going, _Perry_. Bye now.”

He signs off and I’m left glaring at the reflection of myself in the dark screen. At which point I realize I’ve had my shirt open through the entire conversation and Max is probably currently laughing at me. Little bastard.

\- - - - -

I let myself back into the apartment and try to sneak into my bedroom, but I'm apparently out of luck.

“Bambi.”

“Hey Carla.”

“Walk of shame?”

“Walk of hangover.” Fortunately (sorta?) I do look and sound hungover after the stupid shot did that to me. I’m hoping I’m on the cusp of pitiable but not enough for her to do too much to help. So, sort of disgustingly pitiable. I want to go hide in my bed. Also to not be wearing the same clothes as I was in yesterday, ew. Need my jammies.

“Poor Bambi. Did Doctor Cox really punch you in the face?”

“Last night's a bit fuzzy. I just remember waking up in his apartment.”

I can’t figure out if Doctor Cox punching me in the face would leave any discernible bruise, so figure that’s the easiest answer. Also, once again, _I don’t need to lie_. People hear what they want to hear.

Apparently I just slipped too far into pitiable, as I recognize her 'tiger mom' expression coming to the fore. “He better not have. Do you really not remember last night?”

“I remember most of it. I passed out, it was really embarrassing if I’m honest. I don’t really wanna talk about it, sorry Carla. I just want to go to bed.”

I rub my eyes and sigh. I must have slept for over… what, 14 hours? And still feel like this. It’s not a good sign and I need to think. I’ve still got a dull headache and go retrieve some Advil from the kitchen.

“Bambi? Are you okay? Only, you don’t usually drink so much you get like that and I’ve never seen you with a hangover past about 10am.”

I bend over to get the Advil out the drawer and flinch, pain stabbing through my eyeballs somehow. She notices my flinch and looks like she's about to get up from the couch, a concerned expression on her face. "Seriously, JD, are you hurt?"

I shake my head and then flinch again. "Don't worry Carla, honestly, it's just a real nasty hangover. You don't need to get up."

She relaxes slightly, but still looks worried. "That's all it is? A bad hangover? You don't usually get them like this."

“Yeah, I know. I think I’m getting old Carla, pity me.”

“Not likely, I’m older than you.” She still sounds slightly concerned, her words joking but an odd tenseness in her voice.

I grin at her weakly. “Older, but stronger. You wouldn’t get drunk and end up passed out in Doctor Cox’s apartment.” I grab a bottle of water out the fridge and try to force a more genuine grin. “So let me go stew in my shame in my room, yeah? You guys can laugh at me later when I’ll hopefully be more human. We could do that quiz, but I got the tankini, right?”

“You so got the tankini.”

“Thought so. I need to eat less carbs.”

\- - - - -

Once I’m safely in my jammies and snuggled down in my bed I get the iPad out again and sigh. I don’t really want to consider this, but… well, I guess it’s better than the alternative?

_No it’s not, have sex with him._

I frown. No. Shut up, omega boner. I’m not a charity case and I’m definitely not having sex with him. It was basically a “hey, Newbie, if you’re _that_ desperate then I’ll throw you a quickie, where are the closest trash cans I can bend you over?”. Bastard.

He did smell… sad after I said no though. Or maybe I’m just hallucinating, considering the other side effects I’m having that would be relatively minor.

Anyway, it’s not an option. However, one thing is potentially an option, however much I don’t want it to be; I could go into heat. Heat is supposed to supercharge all the stupid pheromones and then plateau. So it could trip me back to normal, like a manual restart.

However, that leaves… issues. I could rent a hotel room or an apartment or something for a week and lock myself in. I’m well aware that I’m so dumb in heat I don’t understand how doors work, so I’d be safe from running around the city and screwing all the alphas. However, there are significant drawbacks. I’d inevitably injure myself, possibly badly. And I wouldn’t be able to have Doctor Cox on call for that, I’m definitely aware that in heat he'd basically be like catnip to me. And I could go into toxic shock. I’m probably lucky I didn’t first time around. So, linked to that, I could go back to Ohio and spend my second heat like my first and try and finish chewing up Dan’s bedroom floor. But the same issues are there, I’d hurt myself and could die just from trying it.

I think I’m going with death = worse than inhibitor side effects. So at least I have a baseline here. Those are both out.

Sadly, this leaves two options, both of which I looked into before when I was at college. I ultimately rejected both in favor of black market meds.

Option one: sell myself. Not to be bonded, but there is one hell of a market for dominant omegas in heat. You can put yourself up for auction through certain websites. What’s shocking is that this shit is entirely legal. Technically any auction money would go direct to the responsible alpha, but at least I have a decent alpha who I know will give me the funds back. It’s regulated, so you know that you can have your stipulations respected (as long as you phrase them as your alpha’s requirements). So, heat condoms so I don’t end up with some poor screwed up kid. And no biting, which is what I’m even more terrified of. That I might wake up after a heat and find I belong to some asshole.

I’m unmated, I’d fetch one hell of a premium. I’d be able to pay off my student debts. Stockpile money for inhibitors. Give Dan and my Mom a load of it too. It seems the obvious solution, the _logical_ solution, but…

But I’d be _selling_ myself. Even the idea of it makes my skin crawl. And if the alpha did bite me then what? Mating bonds overpower sibling bonds immediately, Dan wouldn’t be able to do anything apart from sue. And if someone’s rich enough to buy an unmated dominant male omega – the most expensive ones you can buy, the absolute niche of kinks – then they’ll be rich enough to afford a _very_ good lawyer.

So… that’s basically a no. Which leaves option two, which isn’t great either, but at least doesn’t scare me the same way.

Option two is a heat clinic. Sometimes alphas put omegas into them if the omega is about to go into heat and – for whatever reason – the alpha doesn’t want to mate with them. Maybe the alpha’s travelling. Or got a headache or something. Anyway, the omega gets packed off to a heat clinic, which is basically a spa and they get 'looked after'. Oh, not like _that_. Alphas aren’t allowed there, although I know these places sell tickets for them to watch sometimes. They tend to be staffed by omegas – I’d guess usually recessive omegas – who release calming pheromones and… well, help the omegas heating with heat aids. It stops the omegas going into toxic shock and you’re monitored carefully so you can be returned to your alpha all heated out.

It sounds incredibly demeaning, but remembering my only heat then demeaning sort of stops mattering after a few hours of panting and screaming for an alpha to fuck you. And at least I wouldn’t be damaged or dead or unexpectedly bonded or feeling… shit.

Drawback: humiliating, if someone from Sacred Heart is perverted enough to go to one of the illicit viewings they sell black market tickets for (The Todd, anyone?) then I’m screwed. Oh, yeah, and a one week spell for even the most _basic_ package would cost the same as a 6 month prescription of inhibitors. As far as I know, they don’t tend to accept Groupon.

I have just money enough now. I could pay for an economy package and I’d still have a couple months to raise more funds before I ran out of inhibitors, I’ve built in some resilience.

I sigh and start to research clinics nearby.

\- - - - -

Newbie is looking… peaky. He’s diligently following me around as usual and has given vaguely sensible answers at rounds, but something’s off. Barbie’s been glancing at him worriedly and as Kelso starts quizzing the residents I hear her mutter something to him and he shakes his head quickly, rolling his eyes at Kelso and clearly telling her to shut up. Apparently unperturbed, she mutters something loud enough for both Newbie and Sanders – where did he come from, that fucker can get to the back – both glance at her this time. Unfortunately for Barbie, Kelso glances over too.

“Ah, Doctor Reid, I’m assuming you are not paying attention because you advising Doctors Dorian and Sanders on the next topic; the best course of treatment for viral encephalitis?”

Barbie widens her eyes at Kelso and looks lost for a moment. Newbie glances at me, clearly wondering if I’m going to jump in front of a bullet for Barbie the way I did for him. I narrow my eyes. No way, New-merator. Plastic Fantastic’s on her own.

“Uh.” She huffs her bangs out of her eyes. “Um, well, anticonvulsant, pain relief, intravenous medication for brain swelling and an intravenal antiviral.”

Oh, wow, she’s hedging a lot on that. Kelso rolls his eyes. “Any _suggested_ antivirals, Doctor Reid, or will you let your patient choose a drug brand of his choice?”

Barbie stares at him for a second and… yeah, as I expected, JD just apparently scratched his noise, briefly covering his mouth and Barbie promptly reanimates. “Acyclovir?”

Kelso narrows his eyes. “If the encephalitis was from HSE, then yes. Thank you, Doctor Dorian.”

Both Barbie and Newbie look guilty and Kelso ignores them both and starts berating Sanders about the most effective surgical techniques for an appendectomy.

\- - - - -

“A herpes treatment, Clara?”

He jumps slightly, abruptly awoken from whatever he was just daydreaming about whilst staring at some form, his pen hovering over it. “What?”

“Acyclovir? Bit of a weird choice.”

He shrugs. “It was all I could think of.”

I try to glance at whatever he’s filling in and then frown. “A leave of absence?”

“Just for a week.”

I see Carla watching us carefully; where the hell has she come from? I give him a fake grin.

“Well, Serena, you know I always want to know when you’re on leave. It means I can get _as many_ shifts in as possible here where I don’t have to listen to you talking-talking-talking-talking-talking-talking-“ he opens his mouth and I lift a finger to shush him “talking-talking- _talking_ ah-alll the goddamn day. I like to really savor you not being around.”

He sighs softly. “Yeah, sure. Well, you can enjoy the silence from next week. I’m… I’m gonna go to Ohio and visit my folks.”

He’s clearly noticed Carla too and has scribbled on the edge of the form “Can I come to your’s and speak to you tonight?”

I frown at him, glancing down at the message and then back up at him so he realizes I’ve seen it. “Yeah, you do that. Looking forward to it already.”

He gives me a slightly surprised glance, blots out his message and then wanders off to presumably go log his leave with human resources.

“That was mean.”

I sigh. “Not really, Carla.”

"Did you really punch him in the face the other night?"

I frown at her. "No, not really. But he doesn't remember that, so don't tell him, otherwise he might try it again. I have no desire for drunken Newbies to keep appearing at my door and trying to envelop me in hugs. He's determined enough to try to break the no touching rule when he's sober, God knows what'll happen if it keeps getting into his head to try it drunk."

She smirks. "Aw. Be nice to Bambi. You know he hangs on your every word.”

“No he doesn’t. If he did then he’d stop talking sometimes. And leave me alone. And occasionally be capable of the medically impossible task of screwing himself.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re a pig.”

I grin. “Yeah, I am. It’s part of my charm.”

\- - - - -

I just need to give this stupid form to Angry Anne in HR and then I’m officially done for the day. I’m hoping she doesn’t comment on the scribbled out message in the corner, but it’s hardly going to invalidate the form. Right?

Unfortunately I’ve been clutching the form to be like it’s something precious, which _of course_ means that it’s just been snatched out of my hand by the Janitor.

“What’s this?”

I stare at him, wide-eyed. Part of me wants to lie, but I know if I do then I’ll get some sort of 'Janitors can’t read, is that what you think Scooter?' themed rant.

“An HR form.”

“What for?”

“For a leave of absence.”

He glances down at it and then back at me thoughtfully. “Do you know how long it took me to pick that lock in the washroom?”

“I’m guessing a totally arbitrary amount of time that you’re now going to keep that form for?”

“Actually, no. Because I got bored of trying to pick the lock and had a nap in another cubicle. I can’t actually pick locks. Then I kicked the door in.”

“Oh. How violent.”

“I wasn’t left with much choice. If I’d been able to find you I would have thrown you back in so you’d have to open it. No one else is quite as scrawny as you.”

Yeah, I've been utilizing my entire (pretty impressive) pheromone detection bandwidth to pick up on his particular brand of recessive alpha to avoid him at all costs following the 'Janitor bowling' incident. I narrow my eyes at him. Plenty people are as scrawny as me. Doug for one.

“So…?”

“So that’s now your toilet.”

“The one with no door?”

“Yeah. If I find you using any others then there’ll be trouble.”

“Great. People will think I’m an exhibitionist.”

He’s reading the form now, annoying elongated bastard. “Where are you going?”

“Ohio.”

“You’re not going to Ohio.”

“Yes I am.”

“No you’re not, Scooter. It’s May. May in Ohio gives you allergies, you never go then, you wait until fall. You’re too scared you’ll repeat the incident from when you were fourteen and sneezed so hard you wet your pants in front of Jessica from math class.”

I stare at him in horror for a moment and then snatch the form back and reverse down the corridor, watching him carefully, checking for signs of telepathy. _Don’t read my mind, you crazy Janitor bastard._

“Call that a mind? Hey, I have a name, you know.”

I frown and hurry off, ignoring the yelled “Where are you going?” that follows me.

\- - - - -

Angry Anne furiously rubber stamped my leave application and threw it into the “submissions” pile for someone to deal with and I scurried off to get changed and escape. Unusually I’ve got no real desire to hang around today, I had an early shift and want to get going. I’ve still got a load of research to do and… and… well, shit.

I’m in the parking lot and it’s just starting to lightly rain, but what’s thrown me is the small figure heading in my direction with an unerring focus, like the iceberg coming at the Titanic. I’m pretty sure I know who this is and I’m not really in the right mentality to deal with her. I shove my shades on (which looks ridiculous in overcast weather, but hey, sue me) and change course away from my parked scooter and out towards the bus stop nearby. Unfortunately this does nothing to deter her.

“Hi!”

I try to think of some way of making her shoo. “Sorry, I’ve not got any change.”

I’m walking fast and can hear her struggling to keep up, her long, coltish legs hindered by the enormous wedge heels that she’s wearing. “Do I look like a charity case? I don’t want your change. Why are you wearing shades in the rain?”

“I’m blind.”

I continue stalking towards the bus stop and then realize that this will result in my ending up stationary and therefore at her mercy, so turn and start walking towards the café down the road, hoping she’ll trip in her ridiculous shoes.

“You seem to be pretty sure of your directions for a blind guy.”

“My other senses are enhanced. I’m like Spider Man.”

“Well, then surely it’s only charitable for me to guide you, since you inexplicably have no stick or dog. Where are you going?”

To my horror she’s just neatly stepped out of her shoes, scooped them up and is now scurrying along next to me at pace, carefully knotting the straps together and throwing them around her neck, making a particularly bulky shoe necklace. I stop and frown at her.

“You’re going to cut your feet up on the sidewalk, put them back on.”

“Oh, you’re not blind. I’m so shocked.”

I pull the shades off and glare at her. “What do you want?”

She stares at my eyes intently for a moment and then grins. “I _knew_ it. I knew you weren’t a beta.”

“Be quiet,” I snap at her, then turn and start walking again.

“Hey, are you a patient there? Are you being treated for your fake blindness? Or delusions that you’re Spider Man?”

She’s continuing to trot at my side, frowning slightly at the rain and pulling the hood up on her oversized hoody. I ignore it, starting to get soaked and not really caring. I glance down at her bare feet, her ankles and a fair bit of her calf looking cold where her culottes leave the skin exposed.

“Put your shoes back on, you’ll tread on some glass or something.”

“No I won’t.” She daintily weaves around a broken bottle, having no issues keeping pace with me now her feet are unfettered.

“Please leave me alone,” I groan at her. She looks slightly surprised for a moment.

“Why?”

“Why?! Because you’re drawing attention to me and I am _trying_ to be under the radar.”

“You mean whatever you’re taking to make you look beta? It doesn’t work very well.”

“It works fine. It works _fantastically_. Usually. How’d you know, anyway?”

“Dunno. Just do. Your eyes look wrong. And I could tell you were like me.”

I sigh. “Great.”

“What’s your name?”

Oh. Shit. Part of me wants to tell her to go away or mind her own business, but there’s a miserable aura of pain around her that would make it feel like kicking a puppy. And then setting it on fire. I wonder if that’s the “weird” pheromones that Doctor Cox was picking up from her, that bothered him so much? It’s not unsettling so much as just… sad.

But I can’t tell her I'm called JD, that’d be dumb, she could figure out who I am. “John.” I mutter.

“Hi John! I’m Iolite!”

“That’s a weird name.”

“I know. I didn’t choose it.”

Her voice is strange, switching between a tired, drawling sarcasm to an almost effervescent, bubbly exclamation with no apparent 'in between' mode. It’s actually unnervingly like some of Doctor Cox’s rants and has the same way of throwing me and making me feel like I’m not quite safe. I maybe can’t pick up on whatever he found so weird about her pheromones, but he was right about one thing. She is – and I do feel bad thinking this, but it’s true – batshit crazy. Possibly slightly manic. I sniff absently at her, trying to scent any medication. I don’t pick up anything, apart from a blast of rose-scented pheromones that I wrinkle my nose at. She sniffs back at me and I realize I've just participated in an omega greeting protocol without even realizing. She's frowning, apparently not satisfied with how I smell.

“You don’t smell of anything.”

“That’s kind of the point.”

"You're supposed to do it back."

"What?"

"You're supposed to release pheromones back."

" _Why_? Anyway, I can't, the inhibitors stop it."

We’ve reached the café and I stalk inside, hoping she’ll get bored and leave. She trails straight in after me, her wet feet pattering on the floor. She slips slightly and catches the till, her hood falling down to reveal the mane of hair and the vivid green eyes.

“Hey!”

The café owner has hurried over and is glaring at Iolite, who’s looking suddenly nervous.

“You. Out.”

She frowns and when she speaks next it’s not in either an excited tone or the drawl, but a clipped, carefully refined accent that I recognize from her CordieriteComments vlog.

“There’s no sign on your door. Under legislative act 6.4 of the Omega Civil Rights bill you need to have a sign if you-“

He cuts across her. “Don’t try that, honey. You got your responsible alpha with you? If not then I can absolutely refuse to serve you. Or have you on my property.”

“It doesn’t _have_ to be an alpha. Just… not alone.”

“Right. She with you?” He’s staring at me. I look at Iolite, who’s gazing back at me hopefully. I glance away.

“No. I don’t know her.” I feel a sick shame creeping over me, knowing that if I wasn’t on inhibitors then I’d be in the exact same situation as her. Why don’t I have any solidarity? Why am I such an asshole?

“Right, _out_. Don’t make me call the cops.”

She’d already started walking out slowly as soon as I said no, pulling her hood back up. The café owner glares at her, calling out: “And put some shoes on.” He rolls his eyes, glancing at me. “Sorry. Little freak, not sure why she’s hanging around here. It’s bothering my customers.”

By this he presumably means the two alphas already in the café and laughing at the girl getting sent back out into the rain. I watch as she slowly trudges to a nearby bench, sitting on it and pulling her knees up to her chest, bowing her head down to try to keep as much rain off of herself as possible, apparently still wanting to stay close to me even though I just rejected her.

“Hey. You actually buying anything?”

I look back at him and sigh. “Can I get two lattes to go please?

\- - - - -

“Here.”

She looks up from contemplating the chilly rain running down her calves and bare feet and takes the coffee from me. “Thank you.”

“Scoot along.”

I sit down next to her on the bench, already drenched, my hair plastered against my skull. Exactly why I’m sitting on a bench drinking coffee with a miserable omega in the rain when I’m supposed to be trying to find a decent heat clinic that doesn’t charge insane prices is beyond me, but I couldn’t bring myself to sit inside in the dry and watch her out here. She releases the rose pheromones at me again in greeting.

"So... why am I supposed to release them back?"

She gazes at me with a confused expression. "It's how we say hello to each other."

"I generally say hello to people by... y'know, saying hello. Why are you following me?”

She scuffs her heels on the bench. “I’m not following you.”

“Well, you kind of were.”

“I just… I’m…” she drops her voice. “I’m lonely.”

I don’t really know how to respond to that. I consider using a Coxerism ('you’re born alone and you damn well die alone') but suspect that won’t help anyone.

“I don’t think hanging around a hospital is a good place to make new friends.”

“I’m not used to not having another omega around. It’s… unsettling. And I saw you and I thought there was something different about you. And I was right. And… it helped. Isn’t it helping you too?”

I frown at her. “I’ve never met another dominant omega. I can’t miss what I’ve never had. And no, it doesn’t… _help_.”

I’m not sure if that’s true actually, I’m feeling slightly calmer than I have all day, despite feeling rather exposed out here. She scoffs.

“Oh, please. Are you pretending to be an alpha or a beta? Omegas physiologically relax around other omegas, it happens whether we want it or not. It’s alphas who like being alone all the time. Just ask my brothers. Well, one of them anyway.”

I sigh. “So you followed me because… what, you wanted some omega chatette?”

I realize I’m sounding disturbingly like Doctor Cox, but he is my go-to source of information about pushing people away. She shrugs.

“My sister died in that hospital. I… I have to be close to her.”

That makes absolutely no sense, for one thing her sister is now in a funeral home, so she’s in the wrong place. I try not to frown. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“No, you _don’t_ know. People don’t understand. She was my twin sister. We’ve… we’ve slept in the same _bed_ our entire lives, we presented together, had our heats together… and now she’s gone. And I feel unmoored. I’ve lost… I’ve lost everything.”

“I get it, honestly. I have a brother, if anything happened to him I’d be heartbroken.” I would be, too. Not just because I’d be royally fucked.

“Is he an omega too?”

“No, he’s an alpha. He’s my sibling bond.”

Very softly she says: “Amber was my sibling bond.”

I must have misheard that, right? That makes no sense.

“Pardon?”

“My sister was my sibling bond.”

At my perplexed expression she sighs. “If you don’t believe me then smell it, it’s pretty clear.”

I inch towards her slightly and inhale. She smells of damp rose petals and coffee and caramel (couldn’t help it) and sadness and… and a _lack_. That’s the only way I can describe it, like a hole where an extracted tooth used to be. I flare my nostrils and inhale again. It smells like pain.

“How is that even possible?”

She shrugs. “My parents were completely confused. They thought we’d bond with a brother each or maybe our Dad, but… I mean, we were identical twins, we’d always had a connection. It didn’t hugely surprise us. We got a load of medical testing and stuff and we were fine, we were normal, we just… bonded to each other, not an alpha. Completely undocumented, but then again we couldn’t find any identical twin pure omegas to compare ourselves with, so maybe that’s just standard in that situation.”

I inhale again. She doesn’t have _any_ bond pheromone now, essentially totally unheard of for an omega. We’ve always got a bond to someone, initially a guardian and then a mate. And if your mate predeceases you then you tend to retain the bonded scent. If you don’t die from the shock of losing your mate.

“Oh,” I realize abruptly. “That’s why he said you smelt wrong, why it set him on edge. That’d upset an alpha, would make them anxious that you’re essentially unprotected. Even if they didn’t realize consciously what they were smelling, it would’ve just been confusing and unnerving.”

“Huh?”

Shit, how do I explain that? “I overheard an alpha doctor talking about you. Said your pheromones creeped him out, but couldn’t explain why.”

“Oh…” she looks tired. “Tall guy, curly hair, dominant one? Yeah, I saw him freak out. The doctor he was with said he was always like that though.” She suddenly snaps her gaze back up at me, suspicious. “How do you know that? That was a few days ago, do you constantly go to that place?”

Great, she’s not a dumb stereotypical omega either. “I… I work there.” I see her look intrigued and head her off quickly. “They think I’m a beta, so please don’t say anything. I’m… I’m…” I think desperately. “I work as a janitor.”

Oh my _God_ , why did I just say that?

“Oh. You seem kind of smart for a janitor.”

“What, you think janitors are all morons? That we don’t have any dreams or-“

Wow, for once in my life having to listen to the Janitor has been helpful, I’ve got the outraged tone just right and she’s looking mortified, raising her hands in apology. “I’m _sorry_ , I didn’t mean that. Sorry, that was really rude.”

I frown at her. “That’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

There are so many holes in my story I’m surprised she’s not called me out, the major one being that I’d never be able to afford the inhibitors on a janitor’s salary, no matter how much the Janitor insists that he’s paid more than me. But I guess she’s never had to buy any and – as a member of the uber rich – she probably has no idea how prohibitively expensive they are.

“So, you’ve been hanging around because you’re lonely?”

“No, I’m hanging around because I’m trying to put a message out that it’s wrong how we’re treated.”

“You mainly seem to be sitting on a bench looking sad, rather than putting a message out.”

“Currently my message is that I’m sat on a bench looking sad. I’m trying to think what to do.” She wrinkles her nose. “I don’t know if there is much I can do, but I have to try. But I feel… I feel terrible. I don’t feel right. I need other omegas and my Mom… well, she’s not quite right at the minute either. And I think if she was then she’d just think the wrong one had died.”

I frown at her. “I’m sure she wouldn’t.”

“Amber was… right. She was just like we’re supposed to be. I’m not...” she trails off, looking into her coffee sadly.

“We’re not supposed to be like anything. We’re just what we are.”

She smirks suddenly at me, yet another mercurial shift in temper. Talking to her is unnerving, it's not even like being on some sort of emotional rollercoaster, it's so abrupt it's more like those drop towers. “Yeah, that’s what I think. But _you_ clearly don’t, you’re hiding.”

I’m abruptly sick of this. I’m too nice for my own damn good, why am I entertaining some privileged little asshole complaining about her life and feeling sorry for herself? She’s never had to moonlight extra shifts just to try to make sure her brother didn’t pick up a third job to support her stupid omega ass. She’s _never_ had to try and weigh up being in huge debt, potentially _dying_ or prostituting herself just to get by. So she can sit on her goddamn high horse on her own and leave me alone.

“Of course I’m hiding. I can’t _afford_ not to hide. Sorry you find it so distasteful that I’m doing what I have to do just to survive. Enjoy your moral high ground, I’m going home.”

I briefly see her look shocked before I stand back up and starting walking back to the car lot. A few seconds later I hear her hurrying after me, her bare feet sloshing through the rapidly forming puddles.

“I’m _sorry_ -“

“Leave me alone.”

“I… I owe you for the coffee, let me-“

“I’m not _that_ poor Iolite, leave it.”

She grabs my arm and I stop, turning to growl angrily at her. She shrinks back automatically before she bares her teeth back at me.

“Don’t growl at me.”

“Why not? Don’t touch me without permission.”

“I’m an omega, I’m not going to do anything to you.”

I scoff. "Like you could, you look like you weigh about a hundred twenty pounds soaking wet. Not everything’s about fear, you know, it’s about personal boundaries.”

“And you shouldn’t growl because it makes you sound feral. You know what they do to feral omegas?”

“Good thing they all think I’m beta then. Good thing I _hide_.”

I start walking again and she continues damply keeping pace with me. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Okay, yes I did. But I’m talking about society, not you. I know you need to. Not everyone’s as fortunate as me.”

“No, we aren’t.” I stop again and look back at her. “I'm sure it's great to _be able_ to not hide, Iolite. To make a stand if you're in a position of it not being able to hurt you and you're able to be someplace safe and have a decent education and not need to have a job and just vlog about injustice all the time. It's completely different to be in the real world and actually have to either put yourself in danger or hide to avoid it. That's what it's like for most of us, you do know that, right?"

I'm panting slightly, eyes narrowed, surprised by the intensity of what I just said, trying to ignore how much it goes against my usual claims that I don't think about being an omega.

"Yeah, I know that... I know what happens to us. So you do read my vlog? Anyway, I do know my own privilege, I just _said_ I know everyone isn't as fortunate as me, although you seem to have made some assumptions about me yourself."

I don't really listen, still feeling embarrassed about my impassioned speech and what it possibly says about my subconscious, so try to cover it up. "Maybe I just want to be left alone, y’know? Be anonymous. It’s not even necessarily _about_ the omega thing, it’s just…”

She narrows her eyes. “You keep telling yourself that.”

“I will,” I spit back at her, turning and walking again.

“I’m sorry I pissed you off.”

“That’s a really terrible apology.”

“I’m not very good at apologies. That’s my best shot.”

“Well, keep your lame half-assed apology. And your thing about omegas making each other feel better is clearly stupid, I just feel annoyed.”

“I feel better… Can I see you again?”

Exasperated I look back at her again, her hood fallen back, the rain making her hair start to wilt and her eye make up run down her face, ridiculous shoes slung around her neck and her skinny bare legs and feet soaked. She looks utterly idiotic. What I want to say is “absolutely not, leave me alone, you heighten my profile and you’re a bit smug and patronizing and have the emotional stability of a particularly irate honey badger”, but… but I do want to see her again. I may feel annoyed and pissed off, but part of me feels oddly content. I sigh.

“Yeah, maybe? Not out here though, they’ll see and wonder what the hell’s going on.”

“I can meet you someplace.” She beams at me and the warm, contented feeling reappears. “I know some cool places around here where they leave omegas alone."

"Are there places like that?"

"Yeah, they're great. I need to check which ones are open at the minute, I couldn't go last week because I was in post heat and-"

I frown. "Haven't you been sat outside the hospital for a while? How were you doing that in post heat?"

She looks uncomfortable. "Oh. Uh. This is going to sound a bit hypocritical..."

"I'm so shocked." I deadpan back at her and she grins awkwardly.

"I was taking temporary suppressants."

I lift my eyebrows at her and she lifts her hands defensively. "Hey, I was only taking them to cover a few hours so I could vlog from the bench. And they just give you a post heat break, they're not like whatever the hell you're on. I don't usually do it, I wanted to do something for Amber. They... they didn't let me come see her with them."

I think about the state her sister was left in after the attack. It's probably better Iolite didn't see Amber, to be honest. I roll my eyes at her, trying to drag her away from thinking about Amber, already smelling the miserable pheromones starting up again. "You're a massive hypocrite. So, what are these places?"

"I can meet you at one next week, we can-“

“I can’t do next week.”

Her face falls and she looks at me dispiritedly. “Then why did you say-?”

“I’m away next week.” I grimace and then sigh. What harm can it do? “I’m going to a heat clinic.”

“Oh. Is that why you’re so angry?”

I roll my eyes again and she giggles softly. “Okay. When you’re back message me on my vlog. You just said that you know my vlog, right?”

“Yeah, I know it.”

“Yeah, message me as ‘undercover omega’ and I’ll know it’s you.”

“I’m not doing that.”

“How about ‘beta saboteur’?”

“How’s about I just choose it and if you can’t figure out it’s me then you’re not paying enough attention?”

She grins at me happily. “Sure.”

As I walk back to Sasha she calls after me softly: “Enjoy getting knotted. You sure as shit need it.”

\- - - - -

Newbie is late.

Not that Newbie gave me a time that he was coming around, but I’ve decided that he’s late and am annoyed with him as such. The rain is spattering hard against the apartment windows and I stare at the chili that I’m cooking and wondering why the hell I’m cooking a vat of spicy stew. What, am I trying to impress him? Demonstrate my abilities as some sort of hunter gatherer? I’m pretty sure I once saw him bring in a leftover burger from the previous day, he’ll have absolutely no appreciation for me cooking anything. It was still in the damn takeaway box, he'd happily eat out of the trash, the little scavenger.

I’m not cooking _for_ him. I’m cooking because I need to eat. If there happens to be enough for him then that’s just… chance. I’m just shit at portion control. Obviously.

I turn the heat low on the chili to let it simmer as long as necessary and pour myself a glass of wine. I bought a bottle of red to go with – and partially in – the chili. That’s all. Not to… not to share with him.

Jesus, this is pathetic. It’s even more pathetic that the buzzer just rang and I glanced at myself in the darkened window to check how I looked.

I open the door and discover that Newbie is apparently late because he’s been swimming fully clothed. He gives me an embarrassed look and self consciously shifts, which results in an awkward squelching noise and him wincing. He is - inexplicably - clutching a gift set of scotch glasses, the cardboard around them sodden from the rain. He holds them out to me, looking about as confused as I am about his giving them to me.

“It’s… it’s raining a bit.”

“How observant of you, Elise. I’ll get a towel.”

“No, I’ll go, I just need to ask you something real quick.”

“Shut up Newbie.” I forget about the towel and just drag him inside and then shove him into the bathroom, after gently taking the glasses from him. “Look, take everything off and have a shower. I’ll put it in the drier and then you can put it back on, nn’kay?”

“But-“

I throw my robe in his face pointedly and he reverses and closes the door. A minute later he drops a pile of sodden rags outside the door and mutters “thank you”.

“You’re welcome, m’lady.”

I chuck his clothes in the drier and then put his sneakers onto the radiator, although I suspect it’ll take a bit more than some warm air to dry those out. I then go cook some rice and am just dishing up the food when Newbie reappears from the bathroom, looking slightly swamped in my robe. He seems taken aback at seeing what I’m doing.

“You… you cooked?”

“No Newbie, you interrupted dinner. I figured I’d eat while you’re asking whatever it is that you’re planning on asking. And it’d be rude not to offer you any.”

“You don’t usually care if you’re rude to me.”

“Shut up and eat, Newbie. You can’t afford to get pneumonia on top of everything else that’s wrong with you.”

He nods and walks over to the place I’ve pointed him to and sits down obediently, frowning slightly at the two settings. “How much do you normally eat? Do you normally serve up two dishes just for yourself?”

“Who doesn't? Want wine?”

“I can’t, I’m driving Sasha back.”

Ah. He clearly knows I'm bullshitting about not making him food, but apparently isn't going to question it. “You could crash on the couch again if you wanted.”

A weird series of expressions flit across his face, with him looking in turn pleased, anxious, worried and then defeated. “I don’t really wanna put those sneakers back on, but I should get back. Thanks though.”

I pour myself a glass and shrug. “No problem by me, Newb. More for me.”

I sit opposite him and watch him tentatively fork some chili up and then look surprised. “Hey, this is pretty good.”

“Thanks, Sarah. You could look less surprised that I’m able to produce something basically edible.”

“I can’t cook anything edible.”

Probably why he's not questioning my feeding him then. He's definitely a little trash scavenger. “Color me shocked, Ashley. Not that this discussion isn’t fascinating, but what did you want to talk about?”

“I need your help.”

I lift my eyebrows. Is he taking me up on my previous offer? He apparently doesn’t notice my expression as he stays looking down at the chili and continues: “I thought about what you said about trying to… y’know, reset. So I thought I’d come off the inhibitors and go through a heat, see if that helps.”

Right, do _not_ do the stupid disappointment reaction again, I’m not convinced I got away with it last time. I frown at him. “That’s why you’re going back to Ohio? That doesn’t seem a great idea, Newbie, I thought heats could be dangerous if you try and… what, go cold turkey?”

He’s already shaking his head. “I’m not going home. Just it seemed a good enough excuse to be away for a week. I thought I’d go to a heat clinic, that should… y’know, not result in me dying at least.”

“So… what do you need help with?”

He sighs. “Well, this is kinda awkward. But omegas can’t book themselves in to them. Or check ourselves in. I wondered if you’d do it for me, y’know, pretend to be my alpha? Then at least I can get into a reputable one and my name won’t even appear in an omega register for California.”

“They’ll know I’m not your alpha, Newbie, they’ll smell that.”

“Oh, you don’t have to be bonded to me. Just say you’ve bought me. They’ll do a precursory check I’m not there against my will or anything if we aren’t bonded, but it’s hardly likely. They’ll assume you’re paying and why would an alpha pay for a totally unattached omega?”

“I’m guessing that these places don’t come cheap?”

“Uh… no. I’ve got money though, I can give you the money.”

“Then how will you afford your meds?”

He shrugs, a slightly manic look in his eye. “I’ll moonlight more. And Dan hasn’t helped out in a couple years, so he might have some, I know he’s stockpiling. It’s pointless to try to save for the meds if they aren’t working, right?”

“Look, I’ll book you in, but you can… I don’t know, pay me back in installments or something, alright? Don’t destitute yourself.”

He opens his mouth to argue and I glare at him, resulting in him shutting it again rapidly.

“Thanks, Doctor Cox. I’m sorry this is such a nuisance. Are you sure you mind checking me in? It might be quite a long drive, these places tend to be out in the sticks.”

“No problem, kid. I like a country drive anyway.”

I hate country drives. I always inevitably manage to hit a raccoon and it becomes a lot less idyllic when you’re wiping whiskers and viscera off your paintwork.

After we’ve eaten I get him to show me the website of the clinic he’s found, him standing behind me and leaning over me slightly to type into my laptop as I sit on the bar stool. To be fair, it does actually look pretty good – I was half expecting him to have found some cheap dive to save money, but apparently he does have _some_ common sense – and he points out the basic package to me (and geez, $10,000? What’s basic about that?)

“Can you book me onto that, please?”

I click onto it and check the required information. As he said, it just requests the name and cell number of the responsible alpha, date of stay and credit card details. I frown and glance sideways at him, noticing that whilst he's been looking at the laptop he's apparently been subconsciously drifting closer to me.

“There’s nothing about you. Surely they need to know details?”

He looks back at me and pauses for a second, apparently not realizing how close he was getting to me, an odd expression on his face. He quickly looks back at the screen and then points at the blurb underneath the package name that says that you’ll get a personal call from an experienced omega doctor to go through the details regarding your important charge. It literally calls the omegas a charge.

“Omega doctor?”

Newbie laughs slightly sarcastically. “Doctor who specializes in omegas. Omegas are too dumb to be doctors, remember?”

I turn back at him again and he looks despondent for a moment. “D’you think I’m a coward?” I notice he's drifted back away from me slightly and feel annoyed at that.

“What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “For hiding what I am?”

“No. I think you’re doing what you need to do.”

“But maybe people wouldn’t think omegas are too dumb to be doctors if they saw some actually, y’know, _doctoring_.”

I sigh. “Be realistic, Newbie. If you hadn’t been hiding then they wouldn’t have let you train. Stop beating yourself up.”

The drier beeps and he looks over at it. “Hey, Newb, go get your clothes and get changed, ‘kay? I’ll just book this for you.”

He gives me a slightly suspicious frown. “Starting next week, okay? On Monday? Does that work?”

“Yeah, sure, go put some clothes on, you little omega exhibitionist.”

He walks off to the drier muttering something indecipherable about toilet stalls and janitors. I ignore him and quickly fill in my details and then upgrade the package while he’s not looking. I’ll just tell him it was complimentary.

When he’s dressed and back in the room I show him the order confirmation page, which fortunately does not show my additional upgrade. He looks relieved.

“Thanks Doctor Cox. I think it’s probably a good idea, I’m feeling kinda… weird.”

“You don’t smell of anything, if that puts your mind at rest?”

He grins at me. “A little. Thanks. Should I wash the dishes?”

I roll my eyes at him. “Just get going, Penelope, I know you’re desperate to bask in my radiated glory as much as possible but there is a limit. Anyway, I’m just looking forward to seeing you put your sneakers back on.”

It doesn’t disappoint. He looks like he’s going to cry and I can’t help laughing at him as I shove him back out the apartment door. “Enjoy the ride, Sandra. Do think about the fact I offered the couch as you’re out there in the pissing rain.”

He grins at me suddenly. “Yeah. And I’ll get a little bit of warmth from that, just knowing you care.”

I try to shove him again, but he’s already bounding off down the corridor to escape, feet still squelching slightly. “Bye Doctor Cox!”

I’m not smiling, it’s rage twisting my face. Obviously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doctor Cox's seduction attempt was amazingly clumsy. In fact, I'm not even sure you can call it that, it was so downright blunt.
> 
> JD is demonstrating the weird dominant omegas being able to recognise other dominant omegas thing by saying that the omegas in porn "don't look right" so he thinks they're betas (then adds some logic in as he can't really explain why he thinks that). As Iolite comments, she doesn't know how she knows JD isn't a beta, she just does. JD's a bit less in touch with his omega senses as he ignores them usually, but he'd likely be able to identify another dominant omega on inhibitors in the same way.
> 
> I have now realised that I have used a Titanic iceberg metaphor in all three of my longer Scrubs stories (with a bonus steamy car sex scene in MCP). I'm unsure why I clearly like this analogy so much.


	8. 08. My Heat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve picked up some new readers - hi! Hope you enjoy and hope those who've been following me for a while are being entertained by this.
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this one. Hope you have fun reading it!

**My Unorthodox Treatment**

**by RumCove**

**My Heat**

Disclaimer: Scrubs original characters belong to Bill Lawrence and NBC/ABC/Doozer Productions etc. Basically, not owned by me. I own the original characters in this work.

Since Gandhi and Carla are both on shift I’ve driven over to Newbie’s apartment and am standing at the door impatiently.

“C’mon Phoebe,” I call through the door. “I know those lifestyle magazines you read tell you to keep a guy waiting, but – and I hate to break this to ya – they lie, Muffin.”

“Sorry,” floats back out and I hear him unlocking the door and he stares back out at me, looking harassed, his shirt unbuttoned, hair awry and looking distinctly rumpled. I frown at him.

“I’m not exactly an early bird, Newbie, but it’s 1100, did you just wake up?”

He looks embarrassed. “I’m not sleeping great. Uh, come in, sorry, I’m just…”

I roll my eyes and walk in. He scurries off into the bathroom and I glance around his and Gandhi’s slightly depressing apartment, all of which looks tired and threadbare. I narrow my eyes at the dead dog and lean against the wall, surveying where he lives. This looks like the sort of place you'd see on a Netflix documentary about real life crime. He calls out from the bathroom:

“I’m guessing they called, yeah?”

“Yeah. Told them all your vital statistics, Precious, they said you weigh too much.”

He sticks his head out from the bathroom and glares at me. “Did they actually say that or are you just trying to make me feel bad?”

I grin at him. “They actually said that and asked if I wanted you put on a diet while you’re there.” I see him glance at himself in the mirror self-consciously. “Relax, Newb, it was before I told them your height. Apparently you’re unusually large for a dominant omega, that's all. Also, they do weird BMIs for you guys because they assume you have no muscle mass. Although in your case that’s about right.”

“I do cardio,” he mutters, retreating back into the bathroom.

“I've been thoroughly told off for ‘allowing’ you to be on inhibitors, let alone for this length of time.” I add.

“Yeah, heat clinics hate inhibitors. Reduces the requirement for them, they’re definitely some of the people behind pushing the pharma prices up on suppressants.”

If I’m honest, the whole conversation put me on edge. It was like being asked about a child or a pet. “What diet to you have him on?”, “Do you make sure he takes supplementary vitamins and minerals?”, “Do you socialize him with other omegas?”, “How do you regulate his pheromones?” and, of course, the patronizing comments around him being on inhibitors and unmated. The doctor I was speaking to was a complete asshole and made no secret of the fact that he was fascinated to see a male dominant omega, which he assured me would mean he’d keep 'a close eye' on his treatment while he was staying at the clinic. I ball my fists up and growl to myself softly.

Newbie reappears from the bathroom, his shirt now buttoned and his hair slightly less insane than earlier. “Sorry, I’m half-packed. What do you think I need to bring?”

I shrug and he gives me an annoyed look.

“You could be more helpful.”

“I’m sorry Newbie, I have absolutely no idea what you should take to your little omega sleepover. Just hurry up.”

I continue reliving my infuriating conversation from the other day with the doctor from the clinic ('Steve Cohen' as he cheerfully informed me, like that should mean something) as Newbie scrabbles around in his room, apparently packing for all eventualities and then making a frustrated noise when he presumably can’t fit it all in his bag.

Jesus, the guy was annoying. He actually congratulated me on 'obtaining' (and yeah, he said obtaining) an unmated dominant omega. Like I’d won a raffle for an Audi or something.

Newbie reappears with his backpack and carrying the first aid kit he keeps the inhibitors in.

“Can I leave these with you? I’ll need to take them when I’m done and I don’t want to take them into the clinic, they might try and take them away from me.”

“Sure.”

“Can you bring them with you when you pick me up?”

I frown. “Is there any reason to immediately go back onto them? Your first shift isn’t until two days after you’re due to leave the clinic and – from what I understand – you won’t be in any danger of going into heat off them once you’ve done this thing.”

He rolls his eyes at me. “I can’t go home if I look and smell all omega, can I?”

I shrug. “You could stay at mine. If you wanted.”

He gives me a slightly suspicious glance and then shrugs. “Dunno. I’ll think about it.”

“You’re welcome,” I mutter. I’m not sure why he’s so worried about the whole omega pheromones thing, Gandhi’s clearly got a terrible nose since Newbie must have already stopped taking the inhibitors ahead of going into the clinic, I can smell the pomegranate scent of him. It’s mild, but noticeable.

“Come on,” I take the first aid kit from him and he scuttles over to a dilapidated whiteboard in the apartment and scrawls 'BYE GUYS!!' on it before following me out.

“Your apartment is a dump, Newbie.” I inform him.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Carla actually lives there?”

“Yeah. She thinks it’s a dump too.”

\- - - - -

The clinic is a two hour drive away, on the coast. It is, of course, an idyllic country drive and so I’m keeping a constant eye out for the damn suicidal raccoons. I’m pretty sure if I hit one then Newbie will try to resuscitate it. It’s sunny and bright, both of us wearing shades once we pull out the dreary city.

The first hour or so goes relatively well. I’ve put a classic rock station on and Newbie clearly gets the rules since he doesn’t try to touch it at any point and mainly stares out the window and smells increasingly like pomegranates and anxiety. After an hour of this I can feel myself start to react and I growl, trying to stop the urge to release a load of alpha bullshit.

“Did you seriously have to come off the inhibitors ahead of this, Newbie? This isn’t exactly the easiest drive for me.”

He pulls his shades up into his hair and glances at me sharply. “What?”

“The pheromones, Newbie, it makes it hard to concentrate. And not release any back, if I’m honest.”

He stares at me, horrified. “I’m not off the inhibitors, you shouldn’t be able to smell anything.”

I stare back at him for a second and then drag my gaze back onto the road. “Well… shit. Sorry to break this to you Jane, but I can smell a hell of a lot. I can’t smell any heat pheromones, if that puts your mind at ease?”

Newbie yanks the passenger seat sun visor down and inspects his eyes carefully in the mirror for any signs of the inhibitors wearing off. They look pretty beta to me, but apparently he's worried enough to then twist around awkwardly in his seat and scrabble around to try to grab the first aid kit from the back. Once he’s snagged it he drags it into his lap and fishes out one of his pills, trying to dry swallow it and choking again. I sigh and nudge a bottle of water towards him from the cup holder.

“I don’t think that’s going to make much difference, Rebecca.”

He ignores me, grabs the water bottle and takes a swig, eventually managing to swallow with difficulty. He immediately starts coughing afterwards and apparently manages to cough the pill back up and then stubbornly swallows it again.

“That’s classy, Stephanie.”

“Pull over.” He sounds hoarse and slightly panicked.

“What, just because I said you weren’t classy?”

He’s already scrabbling at the car door, undoing his seat belt. “No, because if you don’t then I’ll puke in the Porsche.”

“Shit,” I growl, pulling over onto the side of the road by a field and watch him bolt out of the car, hurdle the fence and then collapse onto all fours in the field, his back towards me. An alarmed cow is watching him from a few feet away. I sigh, opening the door and walking over to the fence, leaning against it. I can hear him retching and can see him shaking, his entire body reacting, almost like a cat trying to hack up a fur ball. He eventually seems to stop and starts to cough drily.

“Newbie, you alright?”

He lifts a hand and gives me a thumbs up, somehow sarcastically. I go back to the car and grab the bottle of water and toss it over, landing in the grass next to him. He takes it, sitting up into a kneeling position, taking a mouthful of water, swirling it around his mouth and then spitting it out.

“I guess it’s pretty good that I’m going to that clinic, right?”

I smile humorlessly. “Never said a truer thing, Newbie.”

He staggers upright, pulls his shades back down over his eyes and turns around, walking over to me and leaning against the other side of the fence shakily.

“Take the shades off, Newbie.”

He pushes them up into hair and gazes over at me. “Are they bad?”

They’re actually more vivid than I’ve seen them before, I’m not sure if it’s from the bright sunlight, his eyes watering from throwing up or whether it’s just because his body is now clearly completely rejecting any attempt to suppress it now.

“They’re pretty noticeable.”

He shoves the shades back down. “Dammit.” He starts to clamber back over the fence. I watch him get across and then pull his backpack out of the back, retrieving some mouthwash, swilling it, gargling and then spitting it over the fence again. The cow continues to stare at him in bafflement. I inhale, pinching the bridge of my nose and not hugely wanting to break this to him.

“You’re starting to smell like heat, Newbie.”

“Yeah, I know. I can feel it, pretty sure that’s why I overslept so badly. I… I think I’ve gone into early heat on inhibitors. I didn’t think that could happen.”

I sigh and move over to him, pushing the shades back, holding his head to stare into his eyes. The pupils are slightly dilated, the vivid blue irises also somehow larger than they should be. His skin is hot to the touch. I slide a hand down to his neck and press against the scent gland, feeling a slight swelling, the skin almost molten.

“Yeah, Newbie, you’re in heat. You smell like you’re only just beginning, but I’d say you’re a few hours in from the physical symptoms.”

He pulls his shades back down and sighs. “I guess the people who say inhibitors fuck with omega biology might have a point. This is all out of sync.”

“We’ve got an hour left to go, Newbie. Are you gonna be alright?”

He’s already walking over to the Porsche and grimly replies with: “I’ll have to be.”

I get back in and start driving again, glancing over at Newbie every so often. He’s starting to look flushed and worried and then pulls the shades off, putting them back into their case and shoving them into the backpack.

“Look, if I start… going weird… please knock me out.”

“I don’t carry around tranquilizers, Newbie.”

“So hit me or something.”

“I’m not gonna hit you if you start getting a bit handsy.”

He’s looking and smelling distressed and I suddenly get an intense hit of the peppery heat scent. Yeah, his pheromones have clearly gone haywire.

“If I end up like I was last time then I’ll not get _handsy_ , I’ll get full on aggressive. I really don’t want to… be like that.”

I glance back at him again, at his concerned expression. “Your brother saying you were an angry little omega wasn’t a joke?”

“No… I’m _so_ sorry if I end up trying to-“

“Don’t worry about it, Newbie, just focus on staying calm.”

He wriggles uncomfortably in his seat and then pulls his knees up to his chest, curling in on himself. He’s breathing hard and I can smell the panic.

“Newbie, c’mon, stop it. I know you can’t help it, but _please_ try to stop the pheromones, if I start going it’ll make you worse.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry-“

“Don’t be sorry, just focus. Look, you’re uncharacteristically silent at the minute, why don’t you start prattling at me like you usually do? That might help you stay calm.”

“I don’t _prattle_.”

“Sure Newbie. What do you do?”

“Okay, so I prattle…”

“Yeah, you do. So prattle at me about what you’re thinking.”

“I’m mainly thinking _shitshitshit_ , I can’t really prattle about that. Okay, so I do need to speak to you about something before we get to the clinic. So I’ll prattle about that.”

“Sure.”

“Do you know how you’re supposed to act?”

I look over at him. He’s finally focused on me properly and seems to have relaxed, although he’s definitely looking flushed and his eyes have nearly fully gone into heat mode, the pupils and irises so dilated that the whites are nearly impossible to see.

“What do you mean?”

“If you’re claiming to be my alpha, you know how you’re supposed to be?”

I think about Cohen’s annoying attitude when he called me and frown. “I got a preview of that when they called me about you.”

“Yeah, well, it won’t be too much of a change for you. Just act like everything I think and say is utterly insignificant. The doctor will talk to _you_ , not me, even if he needs me to answer. You’ll have to give me permission.”

My frown deepens. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Believe me, I don’t wanna do this either, but that’s what a properly behaved omega is supposed to be like. I know I’m probably gonna be… difficult in heat. I need to be as well-behaved as possible outside of that so nobody thinks I’m feral.”

I laugh, thinking he’s joking, then stop abruptly when he doesn’t join in. “Wait, what?”

“You know what they do to feral omegas, right?” He says it in an odd way, his voice pitched higher and slightly mocking. I feel like he’s referencing something, but no idea what.

“No, I don’t. I didn’t even know that was a thing.”

“It’s a horror story omegas get told when we present. Feral omegas get forcibly bonded if we’re viewed as being out of control.”

"What the hell is a feral omega?"

"From what I can see, an unbonded omega that does what they want. Like... y'know, actually reacts when people are assholes to them." He pauses, before quietly muttering "I think I probably am one."

I stare at the road, my hands tightening on the steering wheel. I try to control myself, but know I release some angry pheromones, which results in Newbie whimpering softly.

“Sorry. Maybe stop talking about that.”

“Yeah, sure.” He inhales deeply and drops his head back on the car seat, closing his eyes. “But yeah, I’ll be doing a proper little omega act. You basically just need to act like you normally do, just remember not to yell at me. Alphas aren’t really supposed to yell at their omegas unless they’ve done something pretty bad.”

“I don’t intend to yell at you. And if this guy doesn’t like how you act then he can blow it out his ass, just be you Newbie.”

“ _No_ , just do what I say for once, okay? By the way, this guy will definitely ask you for permission to study me.”

“He can get lost.”

“If he drops the price then he can. It might help for us to work on what’s wrong. Just no photos or videos. If you say no then he might just do it anyway.”

I sigh. “I’m hardly going to ask him to drop the price if I’m claiming to have bought you, you’d have cost me a hell of a lot, right?”

“So just say I don’t deserve anything better or I cost enough to begin with.”

I don’t want to ask this, but I’m guessing it’s something I should know. “Not that I view you like this, Jenny, but roughly how much would you have set me back?”

He sighs and shifts uncomfortably again in his seat. “I’m not sure. It’s difficult to compare because… well, because I’m older than any sale I’ve been able to track. I’d guess that devalues me a bit. I don’t think you can buy a dominant male omega for anything less than a million.”

“A million? Jesus Christ, Newb.”

He laughs softly. “See? This is why Dan, for all his faults, is a decent brother. I might be worth less than that though, you could claim you don’t know whether I’ve poisoned myself with inhibitors, I’d likely be a gamble for anyone to buy if they wanted an omega who was definitely fertile. For all I know, that’s completely broken.”

“You aren’t only worth anything based on your ability to have kids, Newbie.”

He laughs again. “Not everyone agrees with that.” He opens his eyes and I quickly look back at the road and remind myself to not accidentally kill us both from staring at him when I think he can’t see. “You need a story as to why you’re putting me into a heat clinic.”

“I’m guessing ‘none of your goddamn business’ isn’t going to cut it?”

“Well, it might, but we want this guy onside.”

I glance at my cell, Googlemaps showing an ETA of 30 minutes. Keep him talking, keep him distracted, that peppery scent is getting more intense and whenever he's not talking he's clearly focused on how uncomfortable he is. “Do you have any suggestions?”

“Say you just bought me and you don’t want to bond with an omega that reeks of chemicals? I’ve definitely heard of that happening before, some alphas _really_ hate omegas smelling… synthetic. So they make them go through a couple heats and flush that stuff out of their system before they mate with them.”

“Some alphas are clearly utter assholes.”

“Yep,” he replies, almost cheerfully. “And you’ll have to pretend to be an asshole alpha. I’m sure it’s not a difficult role for you.”

“You feeling better, Gracie? Sounding more like your sassy, annoying self.”

“I feel like my skin’s on fire and my legs are made of lead.”

I make a sympathetic noise and he closes his eyes again, tiredly leaning back, letting his legs sprawl out in front of him. “If you say that then they can’t lecture you on letting me stay on inhibitors. Say my responsible alpha did it for whatever reason.”

“And they won’t lecture you?”

“Nope, they’ll just think I did what I was told.”

I can practically feel the heat rolling off of him now, like the passenger side of the Porsche is on fire. He pants quietly to himself for a few minutes and rolls his head to stare out the window.

“It’s alright JD. Twenty minutes to go. You’re fine.”

His breath hitches and when he speaks next he sounds breathless, like he can’t quite get enough oxygen. “Don’t give them my name. I don’t want to be on an omega register in my real name here, it’s bad enough I’m on one in Ohio.”

“I’ve already spoken to them, Newbie.”

“Yeah. I bet they never even asked that, just your’s.”

I frown. “Actually, yeah, you’re right. They didn’t ask that.”

“I’ll probably forget whatever name it is when I’m in heat, so just go with JD. I should still respond to that.”

“What should I claim that stands for?”

“Oh, I don’t know… Jonathan… Doe…”

“You realize you just called yourself John Doe, right? Why don’t we just claim you’re called Unidentified Male?”

“They won’t care or notice…” his voice keeps dropping off tiredly, him having to make a significant effort just to keep talking. “Just try not to call me Newbie or Cassandra, that’ll just end up too confusing.”

“Maybe Newbie is an adorable pet name?”

He scoffs and curls up in the passenger seat.

\- - - - -

“We’re here, Newbie.”

He’s still curled up and I kill the engine. For all the clinic is pissing me off, it looks good. It’s perched on a cliff, a clean-looking white building with weird curved walls resembling waves. The glass doors to the reception are in front of us and I get out and move around to open the passenger door. Newbie’s eyes flutter open and he looks at me in confusion as I open it and the cool coastal air hits him in the face.

“We’re here, JD.” I may as well try and use the right name now we’re here.

He moves exhaustedly, clambering out of the car and then nearly collapsing. I catch hold of him and he pants softly against my shoulder, clinging onto me.

“Can you actually walk?” I ask him.

“Yeah,” he mutters, then nearly collapses again.

“Yeah, I believe you so much, you little liar. Just hang onto the door, I’ll get your bag.”

I pull his backpack out of the back seat and sling it over my shoulder before looking over at the clinic. A receptionist is standing near the door, watching us curiously. I sigh and abruptly bend down, catching the back of his knees with one arm and his shoulders with the other, standing up with him in a bridal lift. He makes a soft noise of protest as I kick the passenger door closed behind me.

“Sorry, we have an audience and I’m relatively certain you can’t walk.”

“This is humiliating,” he hisses at me. “Like this whole thing isn’t bad enough.”

“Oh, quit whining, Denise. It’s not exactly great for me either, it’s like carrying a lanky stove.”

The beta receptionist is holding the door open for us to come through, apparently this not being a hugely unusual spectacle. She gives me a bright smile as I walk through.

“Doctor Cox?”

She ignores the sullen looking guy in my arms, looking just at me. I try not to snap at her. “Yeah.”

“Doctor Cohen’s been waiting for you, give me one moment whilst I tell him you’re here.”

JD closes his eyes and leans his head against my shoulder, then flinches. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

“What are you sorry for?”

“I’m not sure I can keep holding all the pheromones back much longer. I’m totally out of practice and I’m just so hot and dizzy…”

“Don’t worry about it, we’re here now.”

I glance around the reception, seeing there’s no seats for some reason, just a floor to ceiling window looking out over the ocean. I walk over to it and jerk him slightly in my arms to get him to open his eyes. “Hey, JD, look at the view.”

He’s stopped even trying to hold back the pheromones, which I know has affected me already; my voice is soft and soothing, unlike my usual tone. He rolls his head slightly and props his forehead against my jaw to look out at the view of the ocean.

“It’s nice,” he says quietly.

“Yeah, it’s nice. Look, you can see the rock pools down there, right? This place has a private beach, you can go swimming and chill in the pools when you’re feeling better.”

He’s started to gently nuzzle my throat as he stares out at the water, apparently not aware he’s doing it. “I’d like that…”

I tighten my grip on him slightly, trying not to react. His arms have automatically slid around my neck, clinging to me as he presses his forehead against my throat and distractedly looks out over the water, making a quiet contented crooning noise that seems to affect me even worse than the purring. I want to respond, I want to nuzzle back, to soothe him and stroke him, dammit, I _want_ to look after him during the early stages of heat and then fuck him silly when it really starts and-

I physically jump when Cohen speaks up next to me. “They find the water relaxing. No one really knows why, but it’s why the suites all have window walls so they can stare at the ocean.”

I manage to bite back my growl at the interruption. Newbie abruptly stops nuzzling my throat (which also pisses me off) and then _snarls_ at Cohen. I remember him saying he was planning on being well-behaved and his horrifying comments about feral omegas, so gently cuff the back of his head, continuing to support his back with my upper arm. “Don’t be rude.”

Cohen is a short, slightly pudgy man with a receding hairline and smells like a recessive alpha. He’s looking at JD with a barely-concealed fascination, not even flinching when he was snarled at.

“I do apologize for interrupting.”

“That’s fine, look, he’s not well, he needs-“

“Please, come into my office.”

I frown at Cohen and glance down at Newbie, who’s slumped back against my shoulder again and closed his eyes. I briefly hug him to me slightly and then follow Cohen through to another large white room with an enormous window, a desk and a single seat in front of it. I glance around, trying to find another one to deposit JD into.

“Please, take a seat.” Cohen says to me, sitting behind his desk. “You can put your omega by the window, that should help him stay calm.”

There’s a sort of chaise thing by the large window. I gently place Newbie onto it, although he seems reluctant to be put down, trying to cling onto my neck as I do so. When he fails he lets out a miserable whine and slumps onto his side, staring out at the water.

“Is there anything he can be given to help?” I ask, irritated by Cohen’s apparent lack of concern. He shrugs.

“I would counsel against it. He’s having a very extreme reaction because of his abuse of inhibitors, giving him more drugs could cause more complications.”

I sit down in the seat and glance over at JD, anxious. He’s still staring at the water and I’m not convinced he’s listening. Cohen doesn’t seem to be worried about his behavior.

“Have you treated dominant male omegas before? Is this usual?”

“Yes and yes. I’d need to examine him properly to check, but I’d say he’s well into the early heat phase. Omegas tend to be tired and distracted and overheated at this point and usually reject alphas being around them. Hence my not being concerned at his snarling, you didn’t need to discipline him for that.”

Oh. Cohen may be a slightly creepy bastard, but at least he doesn’t condone shitty behavior towards omegas. I feel slightly less belligerent towards him as a result. Cohen narrows his eyes at me slightly.

“That would have been jarring for him, considering he was being affectionate just beforehand.”

“Oh, you were watching that? How disturbing.”

He rolls his eyes. “I do need to observe the omegas and sometimes their alphas, it lets me assess them. Particularly since I’m an alpha. If you’re concerned around that I tend to use remote videolinks to check heating omegas and direct the beta and omega staff. I will sometimes directly treat them, but if I do I wear a haz-mat suit so they can’t smell anything.”

He turns to his computer and starts typing into it. “I know I spoke with you already, but I need some more information. What’s his name?”

“Jonathan.”

“Jonathan…?”

God, can I say Doe? Damnit, he’s not paying attention, if I change it now then he probably won’t notice. “Doe.”

Cohen doesn’t seem to notice anything weird about that. I then add: “He goes by JD though.”

“Right, and when was his last heat?”

“When he was 17.”

Cohen checks his computer and tuts slightly. “So he’s been on inhibitors for 13 years without a break?”

“Yeah.”

“His previous alpha wasn’t very responsible.”

“You can say that again.”

“And he’s unmated and unbonded.”

Cohen’s looking at me, intrigued. I shrug, embarrassed. “Yeah, that's what they said. I’m… uh, I’m waiting until he’s not got all that shit in his system any more.”

“Probably a good idea, it can throw the pheromones during bonding if their blood’s full of inhibitors. Sometimes doesn’t take properly.” Cohen frowns. “But I’m presuming you’ve known him for some time? They don’t usually get that affectionate with an unbonded alpha they don’t know well during heats. Or relax that much with them.”

A pleased, warm sensation runs through me at that. Not really sure what to say and trying to keep the stupid grin off my face, I just nod.

“How was his last heat? Time length, reactions?”

I frown. “I don’t know, I didn’t know him then.” I remember Newbie’s comment, that I’d have to give permission for him to answer any questions and sigh. “Hey, JD?”

He twitches slightly on the chaise and then glances back at me, looking tired and sorry for himself. “Yeah?”

“Can you describe your last heat to Doctor Cohen here?”

He moves painfully and slowly into a sitting position and gazes at us balefully. When he speaks it’s with the same breathless quality his voice had earlier.

“What do you need to know?”

Cohen glances at me and I growl to myself. “Look, assume you have my permission to speak to him directly, I don’t want you checking every time you need to ask something. He’s already suffering, it’s just slowing everything down.”

Cohen looks back at JD. “How long was your last heat?”

“Uh…” JD’s head cants to one side alarmingly, his eyes rolling, apparently thinking. “A few days? It was quick, I was told it was unusually quick. I went from the preheat phase to full heat in… a few hours. Then I was in heat around a day. Then the postheat phase was really quick, I was unconscious for it.”

“That must have been traumatic.”

He nods, almost violently.

“Did you injure yourself or anyone else?”

“I dislocated my shoulder. And threw myself against the walls a lot. There was no one to injure, apart from my brother.”

“But you didn’t hurt him?”

“No, he was my responsible alpha. I thought he was part of the furniture most of the time. I did injure the furniture too…”

He trails off, then looks at Cohen unhappily. “I might smash stuff up. I’m sorry if I-“

“You won’t, don’t worry about it. We’ll make sure you don’t get that distraught.”

JD doesn’t look convinced, but nods. Cohen glances at me. “I’d suggest we get him to his suite and you can check you’re happy and then I’d like to speak with you separately.”

I nod and walk over to the chaise to scoop Newbie back up. The last time I picked him up he was clearly annoyed and humiliated; this time he actively clings onto me as soon as I have him in my arms and starts burrowing against my throat again immediately. I glance down at his flushed face and then quickly nuzzle against his ear – I doubt he’ll remember and he makes a happy crooning noise immediately in response.

“C’mon you, let’s get your horny ass up to your suite so you can go back to ignoring me.”

He presses his forehead against my shoulder. “I never ignore you, I'm always painfully aware of you…”

I realize all he seems to want to do is snuggle into me and mutter nonsense, so don't answer and follow Cohen down to an elevator, where he presses a button for the top floor. He smiles at me.

“Master suite, as booked. Good views, 24 hour attention, personalized toiletries-“

“Seriously, personalized toiletries?”

He grins. “Omegas are very sensitive to scent, particularly during heat. We’ll manufacture toiletries using their pheromones, it’s one of the ways we can keep them relaxed.”

“Hear that? You’re going to stink of pomegranates even more than usual,” I tell Newbie cheerfully. He frowns at me and then growls softly.

“Why are you annoyed?”

“Pine…”

I frown. “Pine?”

“Ah.” Cohen says, grinning again. “Sometimes they like to smell other scents that they enjoy. Apparently he likes how you smell.”

I glance down at Newbie. “I smell like pine?”

In response he presses his face flush against my throat, apparently scenting me. He then lets out a deep, long, rumbling purr. I feel myself blushing and try real hard not to react to that, my pants already feel too tight.

“I think we can take that as him enjoying your scent.”

The elevator chimes and we step out. I’m hit by a blast of fresh air and I suddenly realize how thick the air in the elevator was with omega and alpha pheromones and follow Cohen out.

“How can you cope with that? That’s amount of pheromones would be enough to send more alphas I know into rut.”

I’m ignoring Newbie, who’s kept his face pressed into my neck and is now constantly purring quietly to himself, clearly utterly drugged on his own pheromones by this point.

Cohen shrugs. “I get exposed to them a lot. I keep nasal sprays in case, but I haven’t needed any for years. I’m more surprised you’re not reacting.”

“It’s by sheer force of will. I’m impressive like that.”

Cohen walks to the only door on the floor and shows us into a huge spacious semi-circular room. There’s a large bed in the center and all the walls show panoramic views on the sea. A sunken bath nearly the size of a swimming pool is by the windows and there’s what appear to be hammocks and various soft furnishings around the room. There’s an en suite to one side and a man standing by the window, apparently admiring the view. As we come into the room he looks back at us.

“Ah, Greg, this is JD. He’s quite uncomfortable at the moment.”

Greg hurries over to us and glances into Newbie’s face. “He’s in heat already?”

I can barely smell anything through the fug of JD’s pheromones and give up trying, looking at Cohen for help. “Is he an omega?”

“Yes, this is Greg, a recessive omega who’s very experienced with dominant omega heats. He’ll be looking after JD while he’s staying with us.”

Greg has apparently dismissed me as unimportant, focused entirely on Newbie. He looks at Cohen. “I can’t help if he’s just being mauled constantly and worked up by alpha pheromones.”

I narrow my eyes at him and try to place Newbie onto the large bed. He clings onto me again and whines softly.

“C’mon Newbie, you need to let go.”

If they heard the “Newbie” then tough shit. He apparently didn’t notice, clinging onto my hands when he can’t reach my shoulders any more and staring up at me.

“I’m scared.”

His voice is lost, childlike from the heat. I press my forehead against his and grip his hands in mine, mirroring the pressure he’s exerting twining his fingers around mine.

“You’ll be fine.”

“I want you to stay.”

“No, you don’t. I’m making it worse.”

I put his bag down by the bed and straighten up, ruffling his hair.

“You’ll be fine, JD. I’ll see you soon, don’t worry.”

He whines again, a sharply distressed noise. Greg suddenly materializes next to him, sitting down on the bed and wrapping his arms around JD. I see Newbie stiffen slightly in response, then abruptly relax and lean against Greg in reaction to the wash of calming pheromones that he releases.

“Doctor Cox, I’d like to discuss a few further treatments, we should leave Greg to look after JD.”

JD has now practically collapsed onto the bed and Greg has shuffled along to the head of it and is gently massaging JD’s throat, continuing to release a constant stream of pheromones.

“Yes, please, come back to my office.”

I follow Cohen out with a last glance at JD. As soon as the door shuts behind me I feel a furious pull to return and my alpha in total and utter rage that I've been separated from a heating, affectionate omega. When we arrive back at the office I ask: “What was he doing?”

“A technique to relax omegas. Essentially it’s just being very tactile and releasing comforting pheromones in a controlled way.”

“Can I check something with you?”

Cohen looks up, curious. “Yes?”

“I’m assuming you act like the omegas can’t respond to your questions because of their asshole alphas, rather than thinking they don’t understand what the hell’s going on?”

He smirks slightly. “Usually, yes. Although sometimes the omegas do get nervous talking to alphas that they don’t know, particularly when they're in heat. It’s easier to just ask the alpha, I’m less likely to get an angry reaction.”

“Good. I don’t like to think of you treating him like he’s a moron.” Only I’m allowed to do that.

“Do you give me permission to treat him? It’s so rare to find an unmated dominant male omega, there’s a lot I could do with the data from him.”

Newbie was right then. I sigh. “No images stored of him. And I’d like to see all of your data on him. And give him the best treatment possible, upgrade him again if there’s an option.”

“We take excellent care of all of our clients. But yes, I’ll look at what else we can do for him. Greg is our best omega companion, if slightly unfriendly towards alphas. He cares very much about the omegas.”

I nod. “And you’ll let me have the data?”

“Yes, certainly. Usually that would be atypical, but as a physician and his alpha I don’t see an issue. You may… you may want to leave your shirt.”

I frown at Cohen. “What?”

“Your shirt. He’s clearly very attracted to your pheromones and it does often relax them if they have an article of their alpha’s clothing.”

I hate the way Cohen refers to “them”, like all omegas are alike. But if this helps…

I sigh and start unbuttoning my shirt. “Do you have a spare lab coat?”

He goes and retrieves one for me and I pass him the shirt, pulling the coat on in place of it. It's too small to button closed and I catch sight of myself in the mirror and smirk; I look like something from a sexy doctor charity calendar. If I say so myself.

“Also, I’ll email you the login details for his room suite so you can check on him.”

I pause in trying to pull the lab coat closed more to try to maintain public decency and to not show up any other alphas and frown. “What?”

“Well, there’s close circuit cameras in each room as a live feed so I can monitor all the patients. Alphas get the details of individual suites so you can check on your omega. Most alphas insist on it, actually, to check we’re not… you know, allowing any alphas in.”

I feel my mouth go dry. Having the temptation to watch him without him even knowing is somehow both terrible and hugely appealing. Cohen apparently doesn’t notice my reaction and takes the shirt, pressing a button and calling Greg down to take it up to JD. Greg responds waspishly over the line, saying he’ll be down when JD’s ready to be left alone.

Cohen then looks at me expectantly, clearly waiting for me to leave. I swallow down the urge to demand to go back to the suite and see him again and tell Cohen I’ll see him on Friday to collect JD.

I’ve been driving for twenty minutes before a goddamn raccoon throws itself in front of the Porsche and I swear violently.

\- - - - -

God, I’m so _hot_. It’s not even an attractive hot, I’m sweating and constantly squirming. I itch _inside_ and am tensing sporadically in response. I twist my head back against the bed and scent the air.

Where’s he gone? The sane part of me knows that it’s better that he’s gone, that him being around was likely speeding the heat up (and I think he was basically told that, so any hope that he doesn’t realize that I have the hots for him seems pretty minimal now). But it was nice, it was nice him being there. I’m pretty sure I was acting in a way I’d find mortifying normally, but my thoughts all seem to be slowing down and tripping over one another. I can’t figure out why my recent behavior would be an issue right now.

I sit up. I feel tired, feel like my arms and legs are too big and don’t really work properly. There’s an omega in the room, doing something with the bath by the enormous windows. I frown at him, trying to remember his name, I did hear it. He smells like apples. He apparently hears me moving around and looks back at me, smiling softly.

“Hey, you look better.”

I look at him woozily. “You smell like apples.”

He grins at me. “I know.”

I look at him tiredly. I know I’m not acting normal. “Sorry.”

He comes over to the bed and crouches down in front of me, holding my hands gently. “Why’re you sorry?”

“I’m being weird. And I can’t remember your name.”

“It’s Greg. I don’t think anyone ever formally introduced us. Why do you think you’re being weird?”

I half shrug. “I’m not thinking… clearly.”

“That’s because you’re in heat, that’s not your fault. I’ve run a cool bath for you and opened the windows if you want to try to cool down a bit.”

I look at the ten foot walk to the bath. It may as well be several miles. “I don’t think I can walk.”

He stands up, pulling me to my feet and wrapping an arm around my chest, pulling my arm over his shoulders. He’s considerably shorter than me, but succeeds in dragging me across the room surprisingly easily. I look down at the sunken bath thing and try to clamber into it, being stopped gently but firmly by Greg.

“You’ll get your clothes wet, hang on…”

He’s undoing my shirt and I feel another moment where I should find something embarrassing but I can’t quite figure out what it is any more. I ignore it, struggling out of my clothes with Greg’s help and then getting into the bath. Oh my _God_ , that feels so good. I submerge myself in the cool water, ducking my head under it and kicking out. It’s basically a small pool and I swim to the edge and lean my elbows out against the window, staring out at the dark sea. Cold air is rolling in through the open window, the chill relaxing and helping me think. I frown. It was light when we got here, what’s the time?

I look back at Greg, who’s sat cross-legged by the pool, carefully setting some toiletries out alongside the bath. He senses me looking at him and smiles at me. "We just manufactured these toiletries for you. Try them, you should like how they smell."

I glance at them, then dismiss them. “How long has my alpha been gone?”

“About four hours.”

“Oh… I don’t remember much.”

“No, you were heating pretty badly. I got you to calm down and get more comfortable and then you fell asleep for a while. You guys suffer pretty badly if you’re not with another omega.”

“You guys?”

“Yeah, dominant omegas.”

“So… you’ve done this a lot before?”

“Yeah, this is my job. I’m a companion to omegas here and I tend to get the dominant ones because I’ve got a good track record with them.”

“What does being a companion mean?”

He frowns in surprise. “You’ve never had help with a heat before?”

“No. I’ve only had one and I was on my own.”

He looks mournfully at me. “That must have been terrible. Is that why you smell so frightened?”

I nod and look back out the window. He continues behind me:

“Well, I basically look after you. I normally get to meet you before your heat starts so we get to know each other and you don’t react badly to me in heat. But you seem quite chill. I’ve had some omegas try to… uh…”

I turn to watch him. “Try to what?”

“Er, they’ve tried to mate with me before. That gets slightly awkward.”

I frown. “But you’re an omega. In heat that shouldn’t do anything, right?”

He grins. “Maybe I’m just that irresistible? To be honest, some omegas just get very confused.”

He is pretty cute, he looks much more like an omega than I do. He’s short and slight, sandy blond hair and big blue eyes in a heart-shaped face. He probably wouldn’t get away with faking it as a beta like I have, even though he’s not got creepy-ass eyes. Even if you ignore the prominent bond scar on his neck.

“I’m pretty sure I remember smelling my recessive alpha stepdad in heat and thinking he was unacceptable.”

“Yeah, others get _very_ picky. You clearly have a thing for dominant alphas.”

I narrow my eyes at him. He shrugs back at me. “What? You do. Anyway, I basically look after you. Simple things like getting you food and running baths, making sure you don’t hurt yourself. I’ll release pheromones to keep you calm, I can give massages and I’ll also just be there to comfort you. Having another omega with you during heats automatically keeps you happier and less stressed. And, if you want me to, I’ll help you with heat aids.”

“Help me with heat aids?”

“Yeah.”

“So, you’d use them on me?”

“If you wanted me to then yeah.”

“Maybe that’s why some of the omegas try to have sex with you.”

He grins again. “Well, I’m very skilled at using them so possibly. Speaking of my job, what do you want to eat?”

I stare back out of the window. I just want to stare at the sea. “I’m not hungry.”

“Then I’ll get you something light. You aren’t allowed to skip meals.”

I frown, remembering Doctor Cox’s comments about my BMI. “I thought I was on a diet?”

Greg laughs. “Did you alpha tell you about that? You’re really tall for an omega, that was an error in someone’s math. You’re actually slightly underweight, so you definitely aren’t allowed to skip meals. I can get you a salad? With seafood, it’s fresh out the ocean here. The oysters are good.”

I stare at the glass, seeing my eyes reflected back, even looking weird in that. “Yeah, thanks.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Surprisingly lucid.”

“The bath does that. Most of the reasons that you feel groggy and confused is just your brain not dealing with the heat and focusing all the activity on essential processes.”

“Would this even help in full heat?”

“It’ll calm you down, you might not be able to think very clearly then though.”

“I don’t think I thought at all last time.”

“If you’re feeling okay I’ll go grab some food for you.”

I nod, still staring out at the sea, listening to him leave and then waiting a few more minutes before I heave myself out of the bath and pad over to the window, completely naked. I press myself against the cool glass, feeling steam already start to rise off my body as I stare out at the sea, searching for something. I find no satisfaction in whatever the hell I'm looking for from doing this. I screw my eyes shut and sigh miserably, walking back over to the bath and jumping in, swimming over to the toiletries and starting to lather shampoo into my hair. The stuff smells incredibly expensive, an amazing, intense pomegranate smell and a creamy, thick texture.

I figure I’ve basically bankrupted myself for this, so use a huge amount of the shampoo, followed by conditioner. I scrabble back out of the bath to apply the body wash, already starting to get hot and dizzy in the time out of the bath it takes to apply it and throw myself back into the water to cool back down. I splash around quite happily, trying to pretend that I’ve come here on some luxurious holiday as a spa break or something.

This bath is seriously enormous. I kick off and dive down. It’s probably about 6 foot deep and 6 foot wide, a deep circular pool. I spreadeagle on the bottom of the pool and then kick back up and emerge back, gasping air back into my lungs. My hair’s straggling down into my face and I brush it back, swimming back to the edge and looking out at the sea again. There’s a lighthouse out there somewhere, I can see it’s light every so often.

I hear the door open behind me and Greg calls over. “Do you want to eat in there?”

“It’s the only place that’s cool…”

“I can set a table up by the window, that should keep you from heating too much.”

“Yes please.”

He drags a lightweight table over, with two chairs and setting out some plates and a bottle of wine before trying to encourage me out of the bath. I’m slightly against leaving, but eventually crawl out and into the towel he holds out for me, wrapping myself into it and then sitting down on the floor awkwardly and curling up.

“You’re not feeling that great, are you?”

I shake my head mournfully. “I feel spacey.”

He pulls me upright and then sighs and matter-of-factly pushes my hands as I cling onto the towel, making me drop it as he wraps a robe around me and leads me over to the table. He gently shoves me into the chair closest to the window.

“Is it like having useless overgrown children to deal with?”

He sits down opposite me and smiles. “No. More like… frightened dogs.”

I frown. “How flattering.”

He takes out a control for the air conditioning and increases the intensity, cool air blowing onto me from somewhere. I lean my head back into it and then jump when he taps my hand gently. His fingers feel incredibly cold, even though I’m only just gotten out of the cool bath.

“You need to eat,” he tells me softly. “When you’re fully in heat it’ll be much more difficult to feed you, you need to eat now while you’re still able to focus. If you’re hungry and heating it makes the whole thing much worse.”

I nod, thinking I probably shouldn’t tell him that I threw up earlier. He’s brought a salad full of fruits and a load of chilled seafood, shrimps, crab claws and raw oysters. He opens the white wine and pours it into a couple of glasses. I take a shrimp and eat it, suddenly ravenous.

“This is very civilized.”

“Yeah, if you’re going to go through a heat then you should do it in style.” He smiles at me. “And this is all cold and I made sure as expensive as possible. Doctor Cohen’s orders, only the best for you.”

I frown at him and start to fork the salad into my mouth, suddenly in a hurry. “Why?”

“Don’t choke. Your alpha agreed that Cohen could study you, with a few stipulations. I think one of the conditions was that you got the best treatment. So we’ve got a hundred dollar bottle of wine here.”

“He’s seen male dominant omegas before though, he said.”

Greg snorts. “Yeah, sometimes. Not often. Any omega doctor would give their right arm to have a male dominant omega for a month or so to study them. Even someone like me would be of interest and I’m nowhere near as unusual as you are.”

I look down. I know he meant that as a compliment, but still… “I don’t want to be unusual.”

“You’re unique.”

“Everyone’s unique. I’m _unusual_.”

“Well, yeah, but… you shouldn’t feel bad about it.”

“I feel like a freak.”

“You’re rare, you’re not a freak.”

I absently take an oyster and put Tabasco onto it before tipping it down my throat. I’m used to eating terrible fast food and whatever I can find that’s pretty much already made or been made for me. I’m trying to decide whether I like the seafood tower or whether it’s pretentious.

“Should I be eating oysters? Aren’t they supposed to be an aphrodisiac?”

“You’re basically already on a shitload of Viagra, a few oysters make no difference either way.”

I decide I like the seafood tower. After all, it’s a _tower_ of food. What’s not good about food in a tower?

We demolish the tower, salad and wine together, mainly in companionable silence looking out at the sea. At one point Greg asks if I’d like some music on or the lighting turned up, but I just shake my head. I wouldn’t be able to see the waves if there was more lighting and I’ve no idea what I’d want to listen to. I yawn hugely when we’re done and grab my bag, going into the en suite to brush my teeth and gargle more mouth wash. I’m distressed to realize that in the time I’m in there the prickly heat already starts to feel like it’s getting under my skin again and my thinking’s significantly impacted just from a few minutes. I quickly use the facilities and wash my hands and face before staggering out.

“You alright?”

“Hot again…”

“Yeah, I’ve got the AC turned on full at it’s coldest, but there’s only so much it can do.”

Greg’s stacking the plates and I stumble over to windows, trying to figure out which of them is open. I eventually track it down as a sliding panel in the middle just above head height, presumably to stop any heat-riddled omegas trying to jump out in the search for alphas.

“I’ll just take this away then get you to sleep.”

I nod absently, going onto my tiptoes to start snuffling out the window. I’ve no idea what I’m trying to smell, but all I get is a blast of cold air and seaweed. I stay in the position, straining my calf muscles slightly, my eyes closed. Greg comes back after a few minutes and goes and sits on the bed. I ignore him, still snuffling.

“What are you trying to find?”

“Don’t know…”

“Hey JD, come over here.”

He releases a load of comforting pheromones as he says it coaxingly. I look back at him, frowning between the lure of him and whatever it is I’m trying to do at the window. He calls again and I take a few tentative steps towards him.

“I see why it’s like frightened dogs now.”

He grins and pats the bed slightly condescendingly. “C’mon, come here. You need to get some sleep.”

I wander over the rest of the way to the bed and curl up onto it. He sits cross-legged with his knees against my back.

“So, a couple things. One is, do you want me to sleep with you? I can if you want me to, it can be pretty comforting for some people.”

I narrow my eyes slightly. “What will you do?”

“You’re so suspicious. I’ll release pheromones and massage you and… well, cuddle you, if you want.”

That sounds horribly appealing and I’m already nodding without really thinking about it.

“Well, that makes it easier.” He’s suddenly wrapped around me, pulling me up against his chest and tangling his legs with mine. I wriggle against him, pressing against his neck and inhaling deeply. I then pull back, frowning. He laughs.

“Yeah, sorry, not what you actually want at the minute. But that’s the other thing. I have your alpha’s shirt in the cupboard if you want that.”

“Yes.” I say immediately. He rolls his eyes at me and gets up, going over to the wardrobe and tossing it over to me. I catch it and carefully sniff at it. It smells of him and home and comfort and… my eyes already start shuttering closed and I lie back down, wrapping my arms around the shirt and twining my fingers into the collar, stroking it softly. When Greg gets back into the bed with me I know who he is, but he feels blessedly cool as he lies against me and strokes my side gently. And I can _pretend_ , right now I can pretend it’s _him_ with me.

Already half asleep I hear Greg murmur to me: “There, you’ve found him now. You can rest.”

Yeah, I can.

\- - - - -

I’m not a pervert. I’m not. I’m just checking on him.

Admittedly, I’m currently checking on him splashing around in a bath and I’d say there’s probably not much of an altruistic reason to be doing that, but it’s nice to see him relaxed. I resisted for all of about five minutes once I got to the apartment before using Cohen’s emailed link to pull up the CCTV of the apartment. It’s a surprisingly good image, very clear. It was, at the time, a clear image of Newbie unconscious on the bed with the other omega sat by him, occasionally speaking to him, apparently to comfort him, even though he was clearly utterly out of it.

So I just left it on the screen and went around sorting stuff out for my night shift and occasionally glancing at it. He eventually woke up and I conscientiously looked away when he got undressed and apparently I’ve just essentially got a ticket to some sort of omega bath show, as JD seems disinterested in ever leaving the water. I wonder if he’s going to stay there for five days and when I pick him up he’ll be all pruney from the water.

Then Greg went out to get food and Newbie hauled himself out the bath and I essentially got an eyeful of him, butt-naked, pressed up against the glass and actually, _genuinely_ steaming. My mouth went dry at that and I had to sit down abruptly. He eventually got back into the bath and dove down into it for long enough to make me nervous before resurfacing.

And now I’ve been watching this for far too long and really, it’s not that interesting, I’m just watching him and Greg eat and not really say all that much to each other. And I’m furiously jealous of Greg, which makes _no sense_ , he’s literally employed to keep omegas safe and happy during their heats. I should be glad he’s with him, not wishing I was there instead of him.

This goes all out of the window when that bastard’s in bed with JD though.

_Get your fucking hands off of him, you’re not what he needs, you bastard._

And then… he gives him my shirt. And Newbie almost immediately goes to sleep, snuggled into it, his face pressed against it. And what did Greg say; 'you’ve found him'?

Is that why Newbie was at the window and kept trying to smell something? I assumed he was just trying to get fresh air.

I frown. None of this makes sense, if Newbie had wanted me during this then he would’ve just taken me up on my offer, right? Not use up all of his savings (and I’m going to see if I can get him to forget about my paying and hopefully he won’t notice I put him in the penthouse).

He’s been asleep for about twenty minutes and Greg has rolled away from him, disentangling himself and gently stroking Newbie’s hair for a few minutes, a gentle expression on his face that seems almost completely alien to how he looked when I was around. He then seems to do a few tests, checking his pulse, ghosting a hand along his forehead and then briefly pressing a hand to his chest, apparently checking his breathing. He tries to move my shirt out of Newbie’s grasp and is rewarded with a sleepy growl and grins, leaving it.

He gets up and walks over to the intercom by the door and speaks into it, his voice suddenly loudly coming out my laptop speakers. The screen splits briefly, showing the view from the door camera, a close up of Greg looking into the camera, big blue eyes seeming to be focused unnervingly onto me. “Doctor Cohen?”

“Yes, Greg?”

“He’s getting to the end of preheat, I’d say. But he’s pretty deeply asleep and I think he’ll sleep until the morning, so he’ll probably slip into full heat during the night. He’s calm and relaxed.”

“So I’ve seen. Working your usual magic, Greg?”

Greg shrugs. “He’s sweet. He’s not exactly hard work and he’s disorientated enough that he’s pretty much just following my lead.”

“Yes, I saw you drank most of the wine.”

“Perks of the job.”

“Indeed.”

“Are the cameras being monitored overnight?”

“Of course, you know they are.”

Greg rubs a hand across his eyes, looking worried. “Can you tell whoever’s on to wake me if he wakes up in the night? And can you shutter the windows now? I don’t want him to wake up in full heat and decide to run through the glass on some suicidal alpha hunt.”

"That seems slightly over the top."

Greg's eyebrows lower. "Have you _smelt_ him? I don't think we've ever had one with pheromones this strong, I think it's best to overreact."

In answer to this the shutters start grinding closed and Cohen confirms that he’ll tell the overnight shift to wake him.

“Anything else you need?”

“Thermals? It’s freezing in here, although not next to him, I don’t think any the others have gotten as hot as he's getting either. Thanks. Good night.”

“Good night Greg.”

Greg shuts off the intercom, resulting in the split screen dropping away back to the main camera. He goes back over to the bed, turning the light up slightly and pulling a book from the nightstand before settling back next to Newbie, reading and stroking a hand gently along his flank as he sleeps.

I tear my gaze away, angrily tell myself that I am _not_ fucking jealous, he’s calm and asleep and in the best place and now I need to go to that fucking hellhole and listen to all those morons when I should be in that damn bed with him.

Fucking alpha biology. That’s all this shit is.

That’s _all_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The general idea of the alphas and omegas not really being able to smell themselves is kinda like we can't smell what our own houses smell like. And omegas always get told what they smell of (because they generally smell good to alphas who will always comment on it), whilst alphas don't. Notably, omegas notice how alphas and other omegas smell (JD's commented on Dan, Carla, Iolite and Greg) whilst alphas don't hugely care about their own scent or other alphas (Cox never mentions it because he just dislikes how they smell and doesn't want to focus on it). 
> 
> This chapter was originally supposed to entirely encompass JD's heat, but I wrote too much... And yeah, Iolite was trailing something utterly horrible with her "feral omega" comment, not realising it's something JD is terrified of.
> 
> (Incidentally, for MCA spotters... RACCOON)
> 
> New OC alert for Greg. All the OCs seem to be omegas currently and they're all snarky little things. Also, if you're paying close attention you might have noticed I've increased the chapters of this to 22 as I couldn't fit in everything I was hoping to under the previous outline. This is going to be a bit of a beast in length.


	9. 09. My Matching Companion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare for full-blown atomic omega JD heat. I got pretty bad sunburn on Sunday and so have taken artistic inspiration from my being nearly radioactive to develop this chapter.

**My Unorthodox Treatment**

**by RumCove**

**My Matching Companion**

Disclaimer: Scrubs original characters belong to Bill Lawrence and NBC/ABC/Doozer Productions etc. Basically, not owned by me. I own the original characters in this work.

“Dude.”

I narrow my eyes, reading the tox screen I’ve just gotten back for the gomer who’s taking up space in room 303. Great, still nothing conclusive. I nearly turn to my elbow to tell Newbie to run a lipid panel on him to check on cardiac risk and then stop myself. Like every single inch of me isn’t painfully aware where he currently is right now and that there’s someone else-

“Hey, dude. Doctor Cox.”

Great, Gandhi, smelling of some sort of righteous indignance. I throw the chart onto the desk in front of me and turn to him, crossing my arms and then touching my nose, trying to hint at him to back the hell off. Because if he annoys me right now I’ll absolutely overreact, what with how I’m feeling.

“Yes?”

“Dude, why does my apartment _smell_ like you?”

I blink at him. I wasn’t expecting this. I’m not really sure what I was expecting – a complaint about my bullying Newbie, him whining about my “messing with the weights” in the gym (i.e. using more than him), maybe he heard that I told one of his patients that a particularly ardent lemming had a better chance of survival than he did if he went under the scalpel.

“Well, I don’t know there, Gandhi. Have you recently bought a home fragrance called ‘superior alpha’ maybe?”

Apparently it would be pine-scented. I had no idea I smelt like pine. Newbie seems to like it. I have a sudden, vivid memory of him pressed against me, scenting me and purring as he released a load of heat and mating pheromones. I squash that as quickly as possible, damn memory’s already affecting my cardiovascular system. Redirecting blood all over the goddamn place.

“Hilarious. Seriously, man, are you sniffin’ around Carla again? We’re bonded, not that I imagine you’d see something like that as-“

“Shut the hell up, Gandhi.” I snap, pissed off about not being able to fixate on that particular reminiscence any more. “No, I’m not. If you must know, I dropped off that medical journal that your domestic third wheel’s been reading so he could take it to Ohio with him. He forgot about it and messaged me asking if I could.”

I had half-considered telling him that I gave Newbie a lift to the airport, but that would be completely out of character. To be honest, dropping a medical journal off already seriously tarnishes my tough guy image. Also, I’ll now have to find the damn thing and hide it, although God knows where Newbie left it, he leaves things all over the goddamn hospital. I once found his stethoscope in the fridge in the doctors' lounge. When I pointed this out to him he just put it back on and went “oohh, chilly” and wandered off to continue whatever the hell it was he was doing before.

“Oh.” Gandhi’s self-righteous anger has apparently dropped down a few notches. “I thought he didn’t have your number?”

“Yeah, well apparently one of my enemies gave it to him.” I frown. “Anyway, what the hell’s with you? Why are you going around smelling your home?”

“I’m not, you reek.”

I roll my eyes. This is schoolyard shit, alphas telling other alphas that they reek. I leant against the wall for around five minutes, there shouldn’t have been much to smell at all. If the moron’s not picking up on Newbie then he definitely shouldn’t have been able to smell me, unless he’s being hyper-sensitive about other alphas.

“Grow up, Gandhi.”

I pick the chart back up and glance around for a new peon to take up a temporary position as a punchbag. Nervous Guy is hanging around in the corner ( _no_ ) and I frown.

“Where the hell’s Barbie?”

“Why don’t you just do your own dirty work? JD’ll be back in a week, maybe you’d appreciate him more if you have to manage on your own while he’s away?”

“Wah,” I mutter, miming rubbing tears from my eyes, hearing Gandhi mumble “who needs to grow up?”, apparently to himself.

“Seriously, where is she? She is on shift, right? I’ve not seen her today.”

“Oh, she’s around…” Gandhi’s looking shifty and I glare at him.

“I’m already down one of my halfway-competent minions, don’t hide the other one from me. Otherwise I’ll be releasing Pee Pants there on the general populace and you know what that’ll do to our mortality rate.”

Nervous Guy groans loudly in response and I whistle at him. “Stop listening in, dammit. Go murder someone.”

He scurries off as I glare after him and then focus the glare back on Gandhi.

“Look, Elliot’s on her break. She can do what she wants on her break, I assume you agree?”

I groan. “Is she having nerdy beta sex with someone in the on call room? I can’t stand the commotion if all this shit happens again, I like my drama on the TV where it belongs.”

“No… just she’s spending most of her breaks with the omega sat on the bench outside.”

“For God’s sake, _why_? I could understand – not agree with or condone, but understand – if some of the more impressionable alphas were out there trying to grandstand in front of her, but why the hell is Barbie there? Is moving on from lesbianism with other betas-“

“Oh dude, stop that. Not everything’s about people trying to screw each other. Turns out Elliot just likes omegas.”

I narrow my eyes. “Yeah, her and Carla are bosom buddies, right?”

“Okay, so she likes dominant omegas. I dunno, man, she seems to feel sorry for her.”

“And you don’t?”

“Dude, I’m not going near that omega. I value my alpha attributes, knowwhatI’msayin’? Carla’ll remove them if I go hanging with another omega.”

 _You damn well live with one_ , I think, wondering how Carla would react to _that_.

“She smells weird anyway, don’t go near her, whether your protecting your “knowwhatI’msayin’”s or not.”

Gandhi grins at me. “Are you admitting that something freaks you out?”

I growl at him and stalk off to get the labs done myself.

\- - - - -

It’s not until I get back to my apartment that I realize I forgot to track down Newbie’s medical journal and groan to myself softly. Not that it really makes much difference, I’ll look for it later.

I yawn and lock the door behind me. I’m exhausted, not exactly surprising since I’ve been driving all over the place and then pulled a 12 hour shift. And I damn well need to get some sleep, since I’m starting a 24 hour monster in about another 11 hours.

I did a load of shift switching so I could pick Newbie up again and then be around at the weekend if he needed anything. As a result I’m basically solidly working for the next few days, but that’s probably for the best; it reinforces my apparent desire to work as much as possible in a Newbie-free environment and will stop me obsessing over what’s happening and trying not to look at that damn CCTV link.

Speaking of…

He’s still asleep, sprawled face down on the bed and spread-eagled, forcing Greg into a relatively small space (hah, bastard). Greg has fallen asleep clutching the book he was reading, one hand resting on Newbie’s back, curled into a fetal position, his knees resting against JD’s side.

I sigh and take the laptop through to the bedroom, knowing I’m essentially a junkie on this at the minute and may as well admit that to myself. I determinedly face away from the screen as I go to sleep though, resolutely planning to only occasionally look at it if I just happen to wake up…

\- - - - -

My eyes slam open. It’s dark and there’s someone lying behind me, an arm slung loosely around me. I roll over and stare at the man in bed with me, eyes narrowing slightly as I breathe shallowly.

No, _that’s_ not acceptable, why is he here? He’s no use. I reverse away from him and search for wherever the alpha pheromones are coming from, eventually identifying it as a shirt that’s on the bed. I press my face against it and inhale, briefly overwhelmed by the smell of pine and fir trees, shivering at the scent.

Okay, so find him, where the hell is he? His shirt’s here, so he should be here, right?

I hop out of the bed and explore the room, searching for him, becoming increasingly irritated when I can’t find him. Why the hell would he hide?

I release a wash of pheromones, trying to encourage him to reveal himself. When this doesn’t work I whine to myself softly, shifting on my feet, trying to ignore the uncomfortable sensation of slick running down my legs. I pace around in a circle and then go stand by the door, staring at it. This was the last place I saw him, so arguably it’s where he should reappear.

It’s _hot_ , I’m hot. I’m sweating slightly, the air feeling steamy and humid. I brush my hair back from my face and stagger a little, prickly shivers running over my skin.

I ache. I _ache_ inside. This is all wrong, why am I stuck in a room with some omega when I know what I need, when what I need was literally here recently and now he’s _gone_ , why has he gone?

I whine again and then walk into the door. It doesn’t open, despite my pressing my forehead against it's blessedly chill surface when it doesn't yield to my attempt to walk through it. I back off and check the en suite again to see if I somehow missed him first time around. Nope, still empty.

The omega on the bed is still asleep. I stare at him for a moment, bemused, and then start to prowl around the room, releasing a steady stream of pheromones. My teeth hurt, a steady throbbing ache in my canines that’s making me drool slightly. This is gross, I feel hot and damp, the saliva and annoying constant slick blending with my sweating in what feels like thick, humid air.

I collapse onto the floor and shudder. I need… God, I need hands on me, I need to bite and be bitten, I need to feel cool skin against mine and _fuck_ I need an alpha to screw me hard. I pant to myself and frown, pressing my ass back against the floor and getting absolutely no relief from it, curling my fists into frustrated, twisted claws in the material of the robe I'm wearing. I’m going to go mad, going to go crazy from the lack of it, from the _lack_. I drag my hands over my face and tangle them into my hair, sending more pheromones out, desperate to know where the hell he is, to encourage him to come back.

Bastard, bastard, _bastard,_ how dare he not be here? I shake my head, spraying droplets of sweat. He should be here, has he not picked up on it? He’s _supposed_ to be here. You can’t _start_ something and then not fucking claim me, what, does he _not_ want me? I know he does, I _know_ he wants me, I’ve smelt it, I’ve smelt him, _why can’t I smell him right now_?

I’ve been panting out whimpers with each breath and now release a shrill whine. The omega on the bed groans slightly and I glare at him. That’s not meant for you, shut up.

He must be further away, must be out of earshot for whining. I stare blankly in front of me, unseeing, and take a couple deep gasping breaths. I then throw my head back and start howling for him.

I’m howling for a third time when the omega from the bed is suddenly grabbing at me. I stop abruptly and snarl at him, sliding backwards on the floor. I’m suddenly aware that the robe I woke up in is half off me, sagging down at my shoulders, caught on my elbows, one of my legs pulled up protectively in front of me. The omega – Greg, I eventually remember – is crouching in front of me, a worried expression on his face.

“Come on JD, don’t do that.”

I huff out a couple breaths and narrow my eyes at him, baring my teeth and snarling again.

“Do what?”

“Howl. Or snarl at me.”

I glare at him and release more pheromones, watching him pale slightly in response.

“Okay, I get it. You’re not feeling great.”

I twitch, a sudden, burning, searing sensation inside me. I bite down another whimper and screw my eyes shut.

“Where is he?”

“JD, look at me.”

I open my eyes and then whine again as I feel more slick pooling out of me, looking around the room, searching for him.

“Look at me.”

I snap my gaze over to him. “Where is he?”

“I can help you, do you want me to help you?”

I look at him blankly. He can’t help me. I glance around quickly again, hunting.

“ _JD_.” I stare furiously back at Greg and let out a low growl. Who the hell is he to interrupt me? Fucking recessive little bastard should know his place, which is _not_ here, which is _not_ to hide _him_ from me and keep talking at me when I'm trying to focus. I pointedly bare my teeth at him again and he frowns at me. “You’re… you’re quite different like this, aren’t you? I’m going to try to cool you down, okay? That might make you more comfortable and help you think a bit better.”

He moves around me carefully, his movements smooth and calculated and starts to run the enormous bath. I stare at him a moment longer, confused, then flinch sharply as my canines throb again. I whine to myself and try to find something to relieve the pressure, eventually finding my backpack and pawing at it. It still smells very faintly of him from when he carried it. I bite it, slumping miserably onto it as I do so.

Greg’s feet appear in my eye line and he crouches down again and softly pulls the bag away from me. I growl softly, but release it. It wasn't helping anyway.

“Do your teeth hurt?”

I nod.

“Okay, look, I want you to open your mouth for me and let me see. But _don’t_ bite me, alright? I have no idea what dominant omega venom will do to me and I don’t really want to find out.”

I look at him blankly. He sighs and presses a hand against my forehead, flinching as he does so. Oh, he feels like ice. I press back against him automatically, purring softly. Yes yes yes _yes yes yes_ , oh, that feels so insanely good, it means I can try to think...

“Jesus, you’re hot. Okay, JD, what are you _not_ going to do?”

I grab his hand, trying to keep the blessed coolness on my skin, dredging through my hazy memories of what he just said. “Not going to bite you.”

“Good, open your mouth.”

I yawn my mouth open for him and he moves his hands down to gently grip my jaw and turn my head back and forth, twisting my head back to try to see better. It hurts a bit, but the chill hands against my face feel much better than the relatively minor discomfort of him apparently trying to detach my mandible. He eventually stops and glances back over at the bath, which has started to overflow.

“Okay, I’m going to cool you off, alright? You’re too hot, come with me.”

He tries to drag me, but I stubbornly sit where I am. I’m bigger than him, he can’t make me move if I don’t want to. He gives me an exasperated look and then hurries back over to the pool, shutting the water off.

“Come on, come into the water.”

When I still don’t move he sighs and, fully dressed, gets into the water, starting to shiver as he does so. “Look, JD, it’s cold, you want to cool off, right?”

I abruptly reanimate, bounding over and jumping straight into the pool. The cold water feels _amazing_ , shocking some of the heat and pain out of my body. I make a weird, ululating call I’ve never heard myself make before and then plunge my head under the water, opening my mouth, the cold water sluicing through my mouth, numbing the pain in my teeth slightly.

I keep doing this until Greg seizes my head and forces my head out of the water. “Don’t drown yourself.”

“But it’s cold.”

“I know, but you still need air.”

He’s visibly shaking, his teeth chattering. The water feels pleasantly cool to me, but apparently is freezing cold for him. He briefly clings onto me in the water and presses a hand against my forehead again and I close my eyes in pleasure at the chill of it.

“You’re still really hot.”

He drags the sodden robe off of me, swimming over to the edge of the pool to drop it onto the side with a sodden splat. I kick as I tread water, enjoying the chill water swirling around me, searing over my naked skin and chasing away the uncomfortable warmth. God, that feels good. Greg is shivering at the edge of the bath and I move over to him, the cool apparently unfugging my mind enough to register that... that he smells frightened. I frown, not understanding what he's reacting to, there's no one else in the room. The water feels blissful to me, but is apparently cold to him, but the shaking is from the temperature and... and he's _scared_.

I growl softly and wrap an arm around him, roughly pulling him against me and tucking his head under my chin, releasing protective pheromones, trying to reassure him that he's safe from whatever it is that he thinks is a threat. He automatically clings to me for a moment before he pulls back and looks up at me, blond hair soaked and dripping down into his eyes. He looks confused.

"JD, what-?"

He frowns, then his expression briefly relaxes and he reaches up to softly stroke my face. "You smelt I was scared?"

I nod and try to pull him against me again. He rolls his eyes and pushes my hands away from him before pulling himself out of the bath into a sitting position next to my robe. Unsure why he'd want to get out of something that feels so good and still worried about him I watch him carefully. His legs are still in the water and I cling onto them, half dragging myself out of the water to lean my elbows against his thighs and relax into his lap. He strokes my back gently.

“Hello. You feeling more friendly now you’ve cooled down?”

I nod. He runs his fingers through my hair and scratches just behind my ear. I purr softly and he laughs.

“Okay, you just stay where you are and try to avoid going psychopathic again, alright? I’m going to call a doctor.”

What? What doctor? I look up at him hopefully, which he seems to misinterpret.

“I’m worried about your teeth, your mouth is really inflamed from the venom. And you’re too hot, it’s very extreme, I just want someone to look you over.”

Oh. Not the right doctor then. I slide sadly out of his lap and duck myself back under the cold water, allowing the fresh cool feeling to wash over me, scouring off the sensation of the sweat and pheromones and slick. I open my mouth, baring my teeth in the water and then remember that I need oxygen and resurfacing.

Greg is talking to the wall. I frown at that, not understanding what’s going on.

I _should_ understand what’s going on and I feel clearer, but everything’s still muddled and hot and confused. The cold water seems to have reduced the aching, itching, _burning_ sensation inside me to bearable levels, no longer making me want to scream from the intensity of it. I spread eagle on my back in the water, floating, before investigating the toiletries and smelling them all.

I’m interrupted as I snuffle at the body wash I’m constantly making ooze out the bottle by the door opening. A man wrapped in plastic enters the room, carrying some sort of sponge. I lift my head and inhale, smelling nothing apart from myself and the appley scent of Greg. I growl and the plastic man stops.

Greg moves around him and sits back on the side of the bath, his legs back in the water. He holds out his arms and tries to coax me back over, crooning my name softly. I give him a suspicious look and stay hanging back, repeatedly glancing over at the weird, scentless man. I growl again.

Greg hold out the strange sponge thing and, against my own instincts, I move forward to look at it curiously.

“JD, do you remember Doctor Cohen?”

I stare at the sponge. That can’t be Doctor Cohen.

“JD?”

I look up at him, frowning. “Yes… I think. I spoke to him when I got here.”

“He’s come in, you see him? In the suit?”

I look over at the plastic-wrapped man and squint through the visor, eventually recognizing him. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. Doctor Cohen needs to look over you. He’s wearing the suit so you don’t get upset from the scent, alright?”

I sink down in the pool slightly. “Not getting out.”

“No, you don’t need to. Just come back over here.”

He holds his arms out again and I reluctantly go over to him, leaning back against his legs. Cohen kneels down by him and looks at me.

“Hello JD. How are you feeling?”

“Bad.”

“Yes, Greg’s keeping me updated. Look into this light please.”

I stare up at the light he shines into each of my eyes, muttering something to Greg as he does so. Greg then catches my face in his hands and I growl softly.

“It’s alright, JD. Trying to keep you cool.”

I relax against his hands, closing my eyes and enjoying the feel of his hands on my face, particularly as he hooks his fingers gently behind my ears and starts to stroke along the apex of my jawline.

“Open your mouth, JD. _Don’t_ bite.”

I obediently open my mouth and then jump and open my eyes as I feel something being wedged between my jaws, keeping them open. I pant and try to back away, Greg holding me in place and shushing me in response to the distressed noise I make. There’s a brief pause whilst Cohen shines the light into my mouth, twisting his head slightly to get a better look and then glances at Greg.

“Definitely stay away from his mouth, his venom ducts are inflamed and if he bites properly his jaws’ll lock.”

I try to growl, my jaws still painfully wedged apart. Greg releases some soothing omega pheromones and I make a strangled noise in response.

“Hold him still, I’ll get an image of this,” Cohen’s pulling a camera out and I immediately start thrashing, trying to pull back. For some reason I can’t quite remember I know I don’t want photos taken.

“I’m just taking a photo of your mouth, JD, nothing else. Calm down.”

My throat’s starting to burn, my breath feeling like fire. I croak despondently as Cohen takes a photo of my mouth and roll my eyes back to look at Greg, who strokes my hair softly. Cohen finally takes the splint holding my mouth open out and I snap my jaws shut, panting.

“Give it to him, it’ll help,” Cohen says to Greg. Greg puts the sponge thing in front of my face and I stare at it, confused. When I don’t do anything he pushes it in front of my mouth.

“You bite it, JD. It’s a different sort of heat aid, not many omegas need it. It lets you drain the venom.”

I pull back and stare at it. It looks utterly unappealing to bite and it doesn’t smell of anything. I glance at them both and then at the sponge.

“Should I spray alpha pheromones on it?” Greg asks Cohen, who’s watching me carefully.

“No… he should be able to just do it without – ah, there we go.”

I just growled and bit the stupid sponge, mainly because it was annoying me. To my surprise my canines sink deeply into it and then I let out a muffled yelp when suddenly my entire mouth seizes up and freezes, my jaws firmly locked closed around the stupid sponge. I start to panic again, trying to thrash away from it somehow and Greg pats me soothingly, holding me in place against his legs.

“It’s alright, don’t worry, you’ll unlock when the venom’s all drained.”

A sudden chill sensation hits my aching canines and then suddenly feel… something drooling out and into the sponge. I groan softly and start to make a low rumbling noise to myself. Disgustingly, the sensation reminds me of draining a cyst or something, but there’s just a constant pulse of something coming out of my mouth and a slow bleeding of the aching pressure in my teeth and jaws. I slump against Greg.

“Is he purring or growling?” Cohen asks. I feel Greg bend closer to me.

“I’m not sure. It might be a bit of both. Can you give him anything to reduce the intensity of the heat?”

“There’s nothing that can be done, you know this. Why haven’t you used the heat aids?”

“He’s not said yes, you know I won’t do that unless he tells me he’ll let me.”

“You can _see_ him, Greg. He’s not in a place to give informed consent.”

“And you can _see_ him, he’ll go berserk if I do anything he doesn’t want me to. And he's big, I can't make him do anything he doesn't want to and I _won't._ I won’t stress him out more than he already is, he's frightened, you can't smell how bad it is, he's terrified. And confused.”

“I need a blood sample from him. And… other samples, will you be able to get them?”

I roll my eyes foggily at them, trying to follow the conversation and not really understanding.

“Yes, sure. That's what's important, not how scared he is." Greg strokes me gently and then sighs, catching my chin to pull my face up so I focus on him, the sponge still wedged between my teeth. "JD, do you mind Doctor Cohen taking a blood sample?”.

I look at him blankly. Greg looks back at Cohen. “Show him the syringe, I’m not convinced he understands all the time.”

Cohen holds up a needle and I sigh, rolling my head onto one side to bare my neck. Some fuzzy part of my brain is remembering inhibitor injections and that they are necessary and so I’m pleasantly surprised that the syringe doesn’t really hurt much. I’m mainly focused on the relief around my teeth and jaws. The pressure was even up in my sinuses and the slow relaxation of the inflammation is making me feel slightly giddy.

They’re still talking and there’s people moving around, but I’ve given up paying attention and am now solely focused on the steady receding throb of the venom coming out my teeth and soaking into the sponge, which is feeling increasingly heavy and sodden. I’ve actually half fallen asleep when my jaws abruptly release and I drop the sponge onto the edge of the bath with a splat. Cohen suddenly appears and grabs it, making me jump. Greg scritches behind my ear again.

“You need to get him on the heat aids _now_ , Greg, or he’s going to get worse and we’ve already been told he can get aggressive when stressed. As you saw earlier, I thought he was going to attack you initially. Get him _calm_.”

The door opens and I’m suddenly fully aware again, rearing up to try to see the exit and scrambling out of the bath to try to get to it. It closes as I just successfully haul myself out. I stare at the door and start to whine again, crouched naked on the floor. He’s outside the door, I _know_ he’s outside the door, it’s where he was last and-

Greg moves next to me and I glance over at him and then miserably sit back on the floor. I’ve started to feel hideously _empty_ again and aching. My cock’s rock hard, pressed almost flat against my stomach. I glance down at myself, annoyed. Stupid thing’s already drooling precome over me, like the constant slick wasn’t messy enough – which I can already feel again now I’m out of the water.

“JD.”

Greg is standing by the bed, holding some plastic thing. I frown at him and look away, disinterested, focused back on the door.

“JD, come over here. Look, this’ll help.”

I sigh and stand up, prowling over and throwing myself heavily onto the bed, rucking at the sheets fretfully. He shows me the plastic thing. I stare at it.

“Do you want me to use it on you?”

“What for?”

He looks slightly non-plussed and then turns back to the wardrobe, digging through it. He brings something else out and sprays it onto the plastic thing.

Suddenly the room stinks of alpha. I screw my nose up, twisting my face away from the smell and huff out a breath. It’s in my nostrils, a burning, unpleasant smell, _wrong_. There’s something oddly synthetic about it, but that’s not what’s really wrong with it, it’s inappropriate, it’s wrong, it’s just plain not right. I’m unexpectedly, furiously angry. I want it gone, I want it away, I want to utterly destroy whatever it is and scream into the remains of it.

Greg proffers the foul smelling thing at me again and says something, which I can’t understand, my head foggy. At which point I bare my teeth, rise up onto my hackles and _roar_ at the thing. Greg takes a step back, looking confused and I scream, anguished and enraged. Greg rapidly hurls the thing across the room and I watch it sail off, snarling at it angrily.

“Okay… so you didn’t like that…” Greg’s already grabbed another plastic thing, although this time it thankfully smells of nothing. Greg sits on the bed next to me, watching me angrily pant, staring over into the corner where the disgusting thing landed.

“JD, what’s wrong?”

“There’s an alpha in here.”

“There’s the smell of an alpha in here. But that’s what you want, right? That’s what you need.”

I narrow my eyes, still glaring into the corner and then look back at him. “Not right,” I hiss out.

He looks thoughtful, then carefully leans over me and takes the shirt from the bed, wrapping the plastic thing in it.

“JD, do you want me to help?”

“Help what?” I’ve stopped focusing on him and am looking around for wherever the shitty alpha is so that I can kill it.

“Help you. Help you feel better.”

I look at him blankly and shift uncomfortably. He can’t do anything.

“Do you want me to use this on you?”

He produces the plastic thing again. I start to snarl at it, then freeze. It smells… oh God, it smells right. I move closer and inhale and then promptly drop down onto the bed, moving as my body immediately dictates, bowing my chest down onto the bed and rising up on my heels and knees.

“Well, that’s a yes,” I hear Greg mutter and then I’m pulled over onto my side. I move pliantly, widening my legs and keening, trying to encourage him to mount me however the hell he wants, just mount me.

His arm’s in front of my face and I bury my nose into it, inhaling deeply, his pheromones making my entire body feel afire, tingling. He’s kept his shirt on for some reason, but I really don’t care. I keen again, releasing a fug of mating pheromones, trying to draw him in, trying to get him to do what I _need_ him to do.

“What do you want, JD?”

His voice is all wrong and I’m confused as hell, but I don’t care. I can smell him, fuck, I want him. He can smell I want him, the pheromones. My pheromones. His pheromones. He knows. Right. This is _right_.

“Fuck me, please fuck me Doctor Cox.”

I sob it out. And then… oh, fuck, _finally_ , I can feel him sliding into me, gliding through the slick and settling deep inside me. I wail quietly, feeling my cock twitch in response. He stills for a moment and then starts to thrust into me at a steady pace and I throw my head back, baring my throat and crying out softly in response to his movements, pressing back against each one to meet him. My cock’s throbbing hard against my stomach, each of his thrusts sending a stab of pleasure through me.

I’ve no idea how long this has been going on, everything’s making no sense, there’s just heat and pleasure and the smell of him. And that final, rapturous, amazing feel of him inside me, the internal itch being scratched, the empty sensation finally gone. I throb and twitch hard, my internal muscles clamping around him suddenly.

“That’s good, come on JD, you’re nearly there.”

Again, the voice is completely wrong and I don’t know what’s happening. I try to say this, but just let out a long, low purr, baring my throat again and snap my hips back hard against him. He thrusts into me again and the clamping sensation happens again, this time pulling him _into_ me and then my muscles seizing up abruptly, holding him in place. And then…

Oh _fuck_ , then the feeling of something swelling inside me and then a wash of hot liquid, somehow even hotter than I’m feeling, pulsing repeatedly within me. I let out a high cry and then I’m coming hard, my cock spilling over my stomach as my internal muscles cling onto his cock inside me and starts to rhythmically tense around him hard.

My eyes roll abruptly and then all there is is heat and pleasure and rightness.

\- - - - -

I stare at the screen. I’ve frozen up, apparently so aroused that I’m stuck in place, rather like I presumably would be if I’d just been fucking him. I’m not sure I’m breathing any more.

I watch Greg tiredly get out of the bed and check on Newbie, who’s apparently just passed out, twitching and still with the heat aid locked inside him.

I was woken up by a howling noise, having left the laptop on and… well, Jesus. I’m really not sure whether watching that has made me feel more aroused, guilty or slightly concerned for Greg’s welbeing, but…

Shit, I’m confused. He clearly didn’t know what was going on when I first saw him, when he started howling miserably. He was also clearly extremely angry and close to the stage he’d described to me about his first heat. That Greg managed to calm him down and eventually get him into the water was pretty impressive and Newbie seemed to slightly humanize after that point, particularly when he seemed to realize that Greg was frightened. The little idiot apparently didn't compute that Greg was clearly frightened of _him_ , trying to reassure the smaller omega when he picked up on his fear. Trust Newbie to be stupidly caring, even in heat. Despite this distraction and his obvious discomfort, JD was clearly trying to find and an attract an alpha throughout.

So why did he react so badly to the alpha pheromones, once Greg finally got him to get over to the bed? Was it a bad batch? Is that why Greg used my pheromones in the end?

Jesus, the kid _fucking_ presented, a textbook omegan response that I thought was just invented for porn. And… oh, fuck, hearing him beg me to fuck him, oh my God.

I feel like I’ve just been in some sort of explosion and am wandering around afterwards with my ears ringing. I blink at the screen again and absent-mindedly reach down and palm my erection, which is furiously trying to make itself known.

Oh, fuck, I’m in rut. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

I slam the laptop screen closed and stagger upright, kicking off the pajama pants I’ve been sleeping in. I don’t need any fucking pheromones, I don’t need anything apart from to mindlessly go and screw that damn disgusting thing in the spare bedroom until I knot it and hope to hell I can get out of it with enough time to shower before my shift begins.

Which is why it’s particularly mortifying that I’m nearly complete with stage one of this plan, about five seconds away from finally, exultantly orgasming and knotting the damn rut aid when I hear the front door of the apartment open. I freeze, already a horrible knowledge of who it must be even before I hear her call through:

“Hey Per. I smell rut, are you in the spare room?”

My brain briefly stops working and then kicks back into gear to point out I can either come now or stay frozen and then inevitably have to do it in front of her. Ruts don’t have a descent option, it’s kind of like being in a rollercoaster going up to the big dip. Once you’re at the top then there’s only one way to go.

I snap my hips forward and thrust hard into the aid, the hot, twitching sensation low in my stomach making me groan. I manage a couple more thrusts before the knot abruptly kicks in and I start to spill into it, growling low in my throat and supporting myself with one elbow thrown up against the wall and my forehead pressed against my forearm. The orgasm chaser hits me hard a moment later and I shudder as the pleasure pulses through me, letting out an involuntary moan.

I stand with my eyes screwed shut. “Go away Jordan.”

“Oh please, Perry, I’ve seen you use that thing hundreds of times.”

Thank God she doesn’t seem to be in the same room yet, I can hear her moving around in the sitting room.

“Jordan, maybe I’m not comfortable you being in the apartment when I’m using this-“

An unexpected secondary spike of pleasure hits me and I inadvertently yelp and shut up. She now does appear at the door of the spare room and I glare at her.

“Did you just multiple, Perry? Something must have got you hot under the collar and I can’t even smell any pheromone spray.”

I look at her miserably. “Please go away.”

She ignores me and sits on the bed, apparently unconcerned that her ex-husband is currently completely naked and apparently trapped inside a sex aid.

“I’m guessing you having just used that means you’re not up for anything?”

I roll my eyes at her. “I thought we agreed that was a terrible idea.”

She shrugs. “Yeah, but _God_ , it’s sometimes just easier to go back to something that you know won’t work, but has some consistency.”

“Jordan, if you’re going to bitch about your sex life can I at least be wearing something at the time?”

She frowns at me. “Seriously, what did get you that turned on?”

“Nothing.”

“Right. Only, you _hate_ rutting. You always resented it massively, you’re not the sort to just get a bit horny and screw the aids, it’d be a last resort.”

“Then assume this is a last resort.”

“Uh huh.”

“Can you pass me the goddamn robe please?”

Jordan sighs, as if I’m putting her through some enormous hardship, then goes to my bedroom and retrieves my robe for me throwing it at me. I catch it and pull it on, unmounting the fucking rut aid from the stand and sitting down abruptly so I don’t have to feel the thing hanging off me, which always feels disturbingly… pendulous.

“You don’t have to get dressed on my account.”

“Yes I do.”

“You don’t, I was enjoying looking at your ass.”

I roll my eyes again.

“What do you _want_ , Jordan? Did one of your multiple sexual partners tell you that they couldn’t handle you chewing on them during intercourse any more?”

She rolls her eyes right back at me. “You’re so charming. Why didn’t we work, remind me?”

I look at her gloomily. “You want the actual reason for that?”

“God, I forgot how moody you get after you orgasm. Forget I said that.”

I bite my lip. Jordan – despite the utter horror of her arrival and I really do need to remember to change the locks – is potentially someone I can ask advice from. She has apparently slept with most of the world so must have come across a dominant omega at some point. Probably quite literally.

“What is it, Perry?” She sighs, like I’m somehow bothering her when she’s just essentially broken into my home.

I frown. “I’m assuming you’ve screwed a dominant omega at some point?”

“Yesss… more than one. Has some little cute omega got to you eventually, Perry? You’ve not even been with a recessive, right, let alone a dominant?”

“I don’t like my biology making decisions for me. Omegas cause that, I try to stay away.”

“Really? I always thought it was something to do with your tragic back story-”

I snarl at her. “Shut up, Jordan.”

She continues as if I’ve not even spoken, grinning at me. “But someone’s gotten under your skin? Dominant omegas are good fun.”

“I’m not saying anyone’s gotten under my skin. I was just wondering.”

“Sure,” she briefly looks horrified. “It’s not that one sat outside Sacred Heart, right?”

I glower at her. “Of course not.”

“Good. I can’t protect you from any drama that could happen at Sacred Heart.”

I wonder if drama would count as a dominant omega successfully masquerading as a beta and being a trained doctor. Probably not, Jordan would probably categorize that as a complete and utter disaster.

“Well, it’s not her. Not that I’m saying there is anyone.”

“Sure Perry.”

“Why are you _here_ , Jordan? I’m already trapped in a goddamn rut aid, let alone being trapped here with you.”

She shrugs. “I was bored. I’ve gotta say Perry, ever since we called this thing off I’ve missed being able to talk to another alpha about stuff. You realize how unusual it was that we could live together, right?”

“Define ‘living’ Jordan. God knows we tried, but it didn’t work. It’s not like you to be nostalgic, what the hell’s going on?”

She doesn’t say anything initially, kicking her heels against the floor and then sighs and stands up. “I was just swinging by to see you, that’s all. I’m trying to decide what to do next in my life.”

“Don’t you usually get botox when you’re at a crossroads?”

“Yeah, the appointment’s booked in for tomorrow.”

“Ah, so next time I see you I should expect you to have no expression?”

“If all goes well then yes. I’ll leave you trapped inside your rut girlfriend there.”

“Thank you.”

She turns to the door. “I’ve got to say, Perry, I’m glad you’ve got the hots for some unidentified omega.”

I frown at her, confused. “Why?”

“Honestly? Because I always thought that you’d just screw your little protégé.”

Fortunately she’s not looking at my face when she says this, so completely misses my badly controlled reaction. I get myself back in hand and respond as acridly as I can manage.

“Thanks, Jordan. What, just bitter because when you tried it on with him he practically ran out of your hospital room?” (And I obviously know why he was so panicked about that now, dominant - or in Jordan's case demonant - female alpha pheromones would have likely resulted in him showing he was omega.)

She pulls a face at me. “Partially, but since he’s been there he’s been practically desperate to be in the same room as you, God knows what he’d do if you offered to fuck him. I mean, apart from bend over, obviously.”

 _Actually, he said no thanks_.

“Sure, whatever Jordan. Go horrify someone else, I need to try and get this damn thing off me and shower, since I’m spending the next 24 hours in that dump of a hospital you’re on the board for.”

\- - - - -

My eyelids flutter open. I feel heavy, tired, sated.

I can hear Greg moving about, doing something and then jump when a cool, wet cloth is pressed against my stomach.

“Sorry, JD. You were getting… sticky.”

I’m suddenly aware that I’m sprawled naked on the bed, but I’m too exhausted to do anything about it. I roll my head to one side and see a heat aid wrapped in some sort of plastic sample bag. I frown at it, sorting through my memories that make no sense. I breathe in deeply and get a hit of Doctor Cox’s scent from the shirt that my face it still pressed against.

“He wasn’t here, was he?”

Greg sits down on the edge of the bed, tossing the cloth onto the plastic bag with the heat aid inside it. He strokes my side gently, apologetically. “No, I’m sorry. That was me.”

“Oh… You’re pretty good at that…”

“Thanks. It has been commented on before.”

He presses a hand against my forehead. It feels cool, but not refreshingly ice cold the way it did earlier.

“You’re passing the major part of your heat, you’ll be pleased to know. You’re not dangerously overheating any more.”

I frown. “Already? Last time it took at least a day.”

“You’ve been in heat for probably eighteen hours, so I’m not sure it’s that much slower. But yeah, once your body is content it’s been mated with it’ll drop out. No need to keep you in that state for longer than necessary.”

“Oh.”

“You seem more like you now.”

I sigh. “You mean less psychotic?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t think you felt that safe.”

He shrugs. “I was fine. I was mainly worried you’d bite me, probably not even intentionally.”

The bed’s starting to feel uncomfortable and I sit up and start to move the bedsheets around, attempting to make it more comfy. When this fails I start to pile the cushions up and then squirm around, dragging everything into a mound of cloth. I wriggle around in the different textures and rock back on my heels. I then carefully put the shirt at the base of the nest and curl up in the center of it.

I then drag Greg into it too, who gives me a long-suffering look and then sighs and starts to massage my neck, focusing around my ears and jawline and occasionally dipping a thumb down to lightly press against the scent gland. I press back against him, purring softly. He wraps an arm around my waist in response and I snuggle up against him, tangling my arms and legs with his.

Considering I’m naked and am pretty strongly entwined with another guy you’d think this was sexual, but it doesn’t feel it. It feels warm and safe and contented. I release a rush of happy satisfied pheromones and feel him relax in response, nearly collapsing against me.

“Oh, are you trying to make me feel better now?”

I nod against his chin and try to copy the massage he just used on me on his neck. He lets me for a while and then laughs softly, briefly nuzzling my hair. I purr at him again.

“You’re sweet, you know that? Even if you are a bit psychotic in heat.”

“’M sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

I wriggle, trying to get closer to him. Another part of me is pointing out that I’m continuing my embarrassing, mortifying behavior, but I don’t really care. This feels nice. I tug him closer to me, tucking his head under my chin again and constantly releasing relaxing pheromones at him and trying again to reassure him that he's safe. He strokes my side gently and releases some apple-scented pheromones in response.

“Go to sleep, JD.”

I snuggle up against him and do as I’m told.

\- - - - -

I slowly come back to myself, although the heat seems to linger. By my reckoning I got here on Monday, when I was already in preheat and hit full blown “atomic omega” in the early hours of Tuesday, with this taking up most of the day and my sliding out of it on Tuesday evening.

Post-heat lasted much longer than it did before. I spent most of Wednesday uncommunicative, staring out the windows at the rolling sea and content just to watch it and slowly cool down, demanding that Greg stay close to me at all times. I basically constantly wanted the comfort of physical contact, so Greg ended up sitting with my arm wrapped around him as I stared at the sea, Greg occasionally trying to shove food and drinks into me to make up for my burning up a huge amount of energy on Tuesday. I also put clothes on on Wednesday when I abruptly realized I was naked.

I did also build nests all over the room and kept hiding the shirt in different ones, which amused Greg.

On Thursday I’m still lethargic and spacey, although my temperature has now dropped down to acceptable levels and I found the pool unpleasantly chilly earlier, staying out of it until Greg increased the temperature. I spent the morning staring out the window whilst Greg kept an arm around me, reading aloud to me from “Tender is the Night”.

I’m just drifting off listening to him when the door opens and Cohen comes in, still wearing the haz-mat suit, which I can now thankfully identify as such. I flinch slightly, remembering my paranoid “plastic man” thoughts and wish I wasn’t such an idiot in heat.

“I’m not sure that’s necessary now,” Greg points out, sounding annoyed. “He’s fine, just tired.”

I press myself closer against him and frown at Cohen. Greg glances at me. “Well, maybe not fine just yet, but I don’t think alpha pheromones will bother him now.”

Cohen pulls the headpiece off and looks at me carefully. “Is this alright, JD?”

I inhale sharply and then nod. He smells of foreign alpha, but there’s no screaming response in my skull to try to mate with him or kill him. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

He kicks off the rest of the haz-mat suit, apparently relieved to be out of it and walks over to us, crouching down to where we’re both sat on the floor, curled up in one of my various nests, this one made from some curtains, a low stool and a quilt that I tangled into a structure.

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired…”

“You seem pretty attached to Greg still. Are you uncomfortable without physical contact?”

I nod abruptly, worried he’s going to take Greg away. I release distressed pheromones unthinkingly in response and both Greg and Cohen reel slightly.

“Ah. I see what Greg means when he says your pheromones are pretty strong.”

“ _Pretty_ strong?” Greg responds. “He nearly knocked me out by just being pleased the other day, he could practically be weaponized.”

“So it’s fair enough to say you’re still in post-heat.”

“I guess?”

“Will you let me take a blood sample?”

I nod and proffer my arm to him, where he quickly takes another sample. He then looks at me thoughtfully.

“Being off the inhibitors seems to have had a physical impact on you. Your eyes are looking clearer and your skin and hair look healthier.”

I frown. “Did I look unhealthy before?”

“Not unhealthy per se, but omegas tend to look very… glossy. You looked beta when you came in, now you look more like… well, a rather large omega.”

I look at Greg. “What?”

“He’s saying you look pretty.”

“Oh.” I glower at nothing. “Shit.”

“Ignore him, you looked pretty before.”

Looking pretty isn’t good, I need to go back to work next week. Maybe I can claim I went to a spa in Ohio or something.

“I’m not _large_.”

“You’re tall for an omega.”

I pull a face. “I’m, like, 5’10, that’s average.”

“Not for an omega, stop being argumentative.”

I growl at Greg and then look out the window again.

“Have you quite finished bickering?” Cohen mutters to Greg, who shrugs at him.

“He likes bickering.”

“JD, your alpha’s picking you up soon, you know that?”

I look back at Cohen. “Yeah, he’s coming tomorrow, right?”

“Yes. Your post-heat phase seems to be lasting longer than expected, I’m not sure it will be quite finished at midday tomorrow when he’s supposed to get here.”

“Oh. Can I still leave?”

“Yes, he’ll just have to look after you for the rest of it.”

“Okay.” I stare out the window again and eventually hear Cohen leave after he and Greg have a muttered conversation that I don’t pay any attention to.

I’m trying to plan how to respond to Doctor Cox. He doesn’t know the various mortifying things I’ve done here and I’d rather keep it that way, so it might be easiest to just try to be… chill with him. But Greg and Cohen will presumably expect to see me be affectionate, particularly since… oh, God, since I was _carried_ in by him and essentially plastered to him before I had to be forcibly separated from him. Like a fucking horny puppy.

I glare at the sea. Hopefully Cohen won’t tell him anything too mortifying.

“Hey, JD, want to go down to the beach tomorrow? It’s nice and a shame for you not to visit it while you’re here.”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

\- - - - -

Greg is right, the beach is nice. I breathe in the clear air and sigh, not realizing how cramped and stale it was starting to feel in the suite. The rhythmic crashing of the waves is relaxing as I sit with Greg, my pants rolled up to my knees my feet in a rock pool. He kicks the water absently, looking out over at the sea. I glance sideways at him.

“It’s weird. I’ll miss you.”

He grins. “Everyone always does.”

I roll my eyes and he laughs. “I’ll miss you too, JD. Even though you’re a massive liar.”

I twitch and look back at him. “What?”

He looks back at me, a grim expression on his face. “John Doe? Seriously?”

“ _Jonathan_ Doe.”

“Right, that makes all the difference.”

“I mean, I am called JD…”

“Well, obviously, you responded to that during your heat. But… I mean, I’m pretty sure that guy isn’t actually your alpha.”

“What?” I glance around nervously. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m assuming you’ve run away from your responsible alpha with him, right? I didn’t say anything in there because they’ve got cameras all over the place and I didn’t want Cohen thinking that."

I stare at him blankly. “Why do you think that?”

“Well, I know about the goddamn cameras, that’s why I was more pissed at Cohen than you when no help was sent when you looked like you were planning on biting me. Fucking typical that the omega I'm looking after is more concerned about my welfare than my own employer. But, as for your alpha… why would someone who was clearly so attached to you put you in a heat clinic? And you basically acted like you were bonded to him, I’ve only ever seen bonded omegas react to manufactured alpha pheromones the way you did. So I thought maybe you two were planning to bond, but having to wait for something and I thought maybe he’d helped your escape from your responsible alpha and were laying low.”

I can’t think of much to say. “My brother’s my responsible omega. He knows where I am, it’s not like that.”

“And did your brother sell you to him?”

“Uh… no. But we didn’t run away either, it’s not like that. He’s… he’s a friend, he’s just helping me out.”

Greg smirks at me. “Really? Are you seriously telling yourself that?”

“What?”

He puts on a high pitched voice. “ _Fuck me, please fuck me Doctor Cox_.”

I flush. “That was during my heat, you… you tricked me. And I don’t sound like that…”

“Yeah, I tricked you into thinking what you wanted was there. It was the only way to calm you down or even get you to accept the heat aid.”

I glower at him. “That’s not fair.”

“What’s the problem? You clearly like him, he clearly likes you, why not?”

“Why not what? Mate? Bond?”

“Either? Or both?”

“Because he’s my…” I nearly say ‘boss’ and then stop myself. “Because he’s my friend. I don’t want to lose that, I don’t want him to view me differently. I don’t want him to feel obligated to do anything just because of… because of what I am.”

Greg blinks. “He didn’t know you were an omega, did he?”

“Not until recently.”

“And… what, you’re claiming you don’t have the hots for him?”

“I.. look, yeah, I have a weird omega crush on him, but-“

Greg scoffs. “There’s no such thing as an ‘omega crush’, either you have the hots for someone or you don’t.”

“ _Fine_ , yes, I had the hots for him before. And yeah, he offered to help me through my heat, but that would’ve ruined everything, you get that? He wouldn’t look at me the same, he’s already treating me different and I don’t want that. It’s not worth that, just to… just to scratch an itch.”

I kick the water, annoyed. Greg gives me a sympathetic glance. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”

“What, that I don’t want someone I respect to see me… see me _presenting_ like I did back then?”

“No, that you love him.”

I freeze, then glare at him. “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s just… he’s just too important to me to mess things up with stuff like that.”

“Sounds like love to me.”

“It sounds like I don’t want to humiliate myself, more like.”

“You’re going to keep arguing with me about this, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” I sigh. “Are you going to tell Cohen?”

“What, about your deviously inventive fictitious name? No. There’s not much to tell him and I doubt he’d care even if there was. He’s too interested in studying you, he’s hoping you get sent back here. He’s hardly going to endanger that by asking too many questions.”

“Thanks. You… you don’t seem to think much of Cohen.”

“He’s alright. For an alpha. He listens to me, which is unusual. And seems to value what I do.”

“But you don’t like him?”

Greg shrugs. “He's an alpha. I don't like alphas. I’m here because I get free use of the clinic for my own heats. And I enjoy my job, I like helping out other omegas, looking after them.”

“You use the clinic? But you’re bonded, right?”

He grimaces. “I _was_ bonded. I’m divorced.”

“I didn’t think divorce was usually an option.”

“It was with him. He’s in prison. For attempted murder. For my attempted murder, to be specific.”

I gape at him, shocked. “I’m sorry.”

He shrugs. “It was years ago. It could have been a lot worse. I got away and got him locked up, people believed me and didn’t just view it as him damaging his own possession. Difficult to not believe me, the state he left me in. Recessive omegas are fortunate that way, we’re not viewed as property the way dominant omegas are.”

I lean against him briefly. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

He presses back against me. “Thanks.” His cell bleeps and he glances down at it, reading a message. “Oh, your not-alpha who you definitely aren’t in love with has just arrived.”

I whine at him, an odd combination of nervous and stressed out at what he’s just been saying.

“Oh, stop whimpering JD. It could be worse. You could use dildos on heating omegas for a living.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greg, incidentally, is the only omega in this fic who actively dislikes alphas. And yeah, he does make an almost throwaway reference to nearly getting murdered by his mate. Poor Greg :(
> 
> Heating JD's logic is somewhat flawed. Also, it's surprisingly hard to write someone essentially not understanding what's happening around them. And yep, alphas (and omegas) can multiple orgasm in this 'verse. Good for them.
> 
> Very tempted to add a pairing of JD/dildo but suspect this will put off potential readers :/


	10. 10. My Painful Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a personal note, this fic's now got the most kudos and bookmarks of any I've written on this site and I'm not even halfway through. Thank you all so much! I'm so pleased that people are enjoying this, particularly since I really wasn't sure that this would be something that would be well-received.
> 
> On with the fic; to make up for the total lack of interaction between JD and Doctor Cox in the previous chapter, this one nearly entirely has them together.
> 
> WARNING: There's a section in this chapter about domestic abuse - not directly affecting any main character and with limited detail, but just flagging if this could impact any readers.

**My Unorthodox Treatment**

**by RumCove**

**My Painful Confession**

Disclaimer: Scrubs original characters belong to Bill Lawrence and NBC/ABC/Doozer Productions etc. Basically, not owned by me. I own the original characters in this work.

“Ah, Doctor Cox, good to see you again.”

I nod at Cohen, biting back the urge to snap at him to just go get Newbie and leave me alone.

“Could you just come into my office please?”

I frown. “Is something wrong? He’s alright, isn’t he?”

“Yes, yes, JD’s fine. He’s down at the beach with Greg, I’ll let him know you’re here.”

I glance out the window, trying to see if I can spot him down there, but can’t identify any spiky haired little bastards splashing around in the water. I sigh and trudge after Cohen, wishing he’d just produce Newbie so I can get the hell out of here and talk to him.

“Thank you for consenting for my studying him whilst he was here. It’s been fascinating,” Cohen informs me once we’re in his office. His fervent, enthusiastic tone makes me feel uneasy, like he’s talking about my lending him a particularly interesting potted plant for the weekend. I give him an uncomfortable look.

“Fascinating?”

“Yes. His heats are quite extreme, more so than most dominant omegas. You did the right thing bringing him here.”

I frown. “I thought the whole point of heats were that they’re extreme?”

“Yes, but his are even more so. He becomes extremely disoriented. In full heat his blood is saturated with pheromones.”

He produces a glass vial, roughly a fifth full of a clear fluid and shows it to me. “This is a sample of dominant omega venom I took from a patient a few months ago. Not all dominant omegas produce it, it can occur during heats or in response to being bond-bitten by an alpha or feeling threatened.”

I look at it blankly. “I didn’t realize they did that, you only usually hear about the alpha biting the omega.”

“Yes, that’s a relatively recent phenomenon. Rather strange as well, the bond is much stronger if both partners bite. Anyway…” he takes a second glass vial out, this one nearly full of clear liquid. “This is how much venom JD produced.”

I glance between the two. “So, he produces a lot of venom. Does that mean anything?”

“It means he’s a highly dominant omega.”

“I thought you were either dominant or recessive, not that it went in… intensities.”

“Yes and no. We categorize it as such, but you will have noticed you have stronger and weaker pheromones than some other dominant alphas.”

I shrug. “Yeah.”

“Same goes with dominant omegas. There’s a certain sliding scale that I’d assess he’s near the top of.”

“Again, does this mean much?”

“It means he’s more likely to be volatile and impacted by pheromones.”

“He’s not _volatile_ ,” I snap, irritated and forgetting myself. “He’s one of the passive people I’ve ever met.”

Cohen shrugs. “Not during his heats, he’s quite aggressive then, which I assume you saw?”

I nod. “But that’s a pretty extreme circumstance to be under.”

“It also means he needs a highly dominant alpha to bond with. I’d strongly suggest you get a blood test from here to confirm you’d be able to safely bond with him.”

I bite back the urge to snarl at Cohen to fuck off and I don’t give a shit how he wants to categorize Newbie, but since I’m claiming I dumped Newbie here so he could get clean ahead of a bond then that might be weird.

“Sure. What would happen if he bit me and we weren’t compatible?”

“Put simply, it would kill you. Which is why I strongly advise getting checked.”

“Hang on, let me get this straight, if he bites me it could kill me?”

“Only if he bit your scent gland when in heat or responding to a bond bite. I wouldn’t be overly concerned, his reaction to your pheromones pretty strongly supports the likelihood that you are compatible, omegas usually don’t respond well to alphas that they’d accidentally kill if they bonded with.”

I sigh and roll up my sleeve as Cohen draws a blood sample, continuing to twitter on as he does so.

“You may have noticed that he had a strong protective urge during his heat, which would suggest he's got a good paternal instinct. You’ll also be glad to know that the inhibitors haven’t done any long term damage, he’s fertile. And tests confirm he’s definitely unbonded and unmated. Quite a rarity you have there.”

Scratch Cohen sounding like he’s talking about a potted plant, it’s like he’s talking about livestock.

“Yes, aren’t I lucky?” I mutter sarcastically.

“Otherwise, he seems healthy, if slightly underweight and rather distracted sometimes.”

“He’s always like that.”

“His post-heat hasn’t quite finished yet, which is slightly unusual. We’ve run some tests and can’t detect anything amiss, so it’s likely just due to the inhibitor abuse causing the post-heat stage to linger. He’ll probably be rather lethargic and nervous, I’d recommend being close by him, he’s been quite attached to his companion and might find the separation something of a shock. Also, standard with very dominant omegas, he'll want physical connection.”

Cohen labels my blood sample and puts it into his out tray.

“I’ll get the response on that to you as soon as possible. I’d suggest you not try to bond with him until I get the lab results confirmed, which should take a few days.”

“That’s fine, I don’t intend to-“

I’m cut off by a knock at the door and Greg enters, followed by Newbie. I nearly double-take at the sight of him.

His eyes have noticeably changed, presumably the first time I’ve properly seen them without any inhibitor after effects and the result is striking. They’ve lost the pale blue, slightly creepy look they had previously and are a deep blue, lapis color, iridescent and softly glowing. His pale skin’s gone almost creamy and luxuriant and his dark hair seems shinier and thicker, looking like it’s grown about an inch in a week. The pomegranate scent is richer and headier than before. I abruptly stop talking and stare at him for a moment.

“Yes, also the omega hormones tend to do that as well.” Cohen notes. I ignore him and continue to stare at Newbie, who awkwardly shuffles his backpack on his shoulders and then gives me a nervous little wave.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” I respond hoarsely, then clear my throat, trying to force myself to sound normal again. “You’re looking better than the last I saw you.”

He grins. “Not difficult.”

He’s staring right back at me, still looking slightly flushed and mesmerized, Greg rolls his eyes and nudges him sharply in an attempt to get him to reanimate. It has no real impact on Newbie, who just staggers slightly, but reminds me that I do actually just want to get out of here. I stand up quickly and glance over at Cohen.

“Was there anything else?”

Cohen looks reluctant to finish the conversation, but shakes his head. “No, I’ll email you a full report. And the details of the blood test when they’re through. I’d appreciate it if you’d consider bringing him back at some point, I’d be willing to discuss a competitive price if you’d give me the opportunity to-“

“Sure,” I mutter, not hugely paying attention. I walk over to Newbie and briefly squeeze his shoulder. “Hey you. You good to go?”

He nods and trails after me as I hurry out, trying to hang onto his backpack and failing as I pull it off of him and shove it into the backseat of the Porsche. I glance back in time to see him hugging Greg goodbye, pulling the other omega against him and tucking Greg's head under his chin the way I saw him do over the cameras, Greg apparently enjoying the physical contact, eyes closed and both of them releasing contented pheromones. I should find the exchange sweet - alphas generally seeing omegas interact go all gooey over it - but instead I feel a low, sick jab in my stomach and have to swallow down the urge to kick the little bastard away from Newbie.

And apparently I just released enough pheromones to show how I’m feeling, since Greg suddenly snaps his eyes open and backs off sharply, unconsciously, a brief frightened expression on his face. He narrows his eyes at me.

“Grow up.”

Newbie’s looking distressed again and I growl softly to myself, trying to calm down. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to do that.”

“Look after him,” Greg snaps at me, then pointedly hugs JD again whilst keeping eye contact with me, eyes narrowed. He then drops his gaze down to mutter something into Newbie's ear and smiles at him. Newbie nods and then scurries over to the Porsche. We both get in and I reverse out and drive out onto the little ocean road. And we’re _finally_ alone.

\- - - - -

“You didn’t have to do that, you scared him.”

Jesus, Newbie, I’ve had to watch that bastard comfort you and be with you and damn well fuck you with sex aids, I feel I’m allowed to have some… reaction. But I’m pretty sure Newbie doesn’t know he’s been caught on candid camera and I’m certainly not giving that away.

“It was unintentional, Delilah.”

“Ah. I was rather enjoying actually being called by my name for nearly five days, I guess it was too much to hope that would continue.”

“You bet your ass it is, Newbie. How are you feeling?”

“Tired. Which is ridiculous, considering I’ve been unconscious for most of this week. Did you bring my inhibitors?”

I really don’t want him back on the goddamn inhibitors, he looks absolutely glorious like this. Uh, and his health. I mean, I don’t want him on the inhibitors because they’re bad for him. Him looking good is neither here nor there. Not that he does look good.

“Yesss,” I drawl out carefully. “But Cohen said you’re not finished your heat yet. You’re not on shift until Monday, why not finish this up properly and stay in… what did you call it? All your glowy-eyed glory? Why not stay like this until it’s finished?”

“Because I can’t go home like this.”

“Stay at mine. You can even sleep in a bed, I won’t demand you stay on the couch.” I’ve even changed the locks so a harpy can’t come in and horrify us both. Also, you’re absolutely not staying in the rut room, I’ll sleep in there.

He makes a non-committal noise and I frown at him. “C’mon Newbie, you know you’d give your right leg for a sleepover at ol’ Doctor Cox’s apartment normally. And medically it probably is best you wait until the heat’s finished before going back on inhibitors, we don’t want to gamble with them screwing up again.”

Assuming that this will have fixed the problem. I’m not sure if Cohen’s very scientific diagnosis of Newbie essentially being a super-dominant omega could be one reason the inhibitors are starting to fail.

“Okay, I’ll message Turk and tell him I’m getting a later flight.”

He pulls his cell out of his bag and starts typing on it, breaking briefly to yawn to himself.

“Why don’t you just go to sleep, Newbie?”

“Yeah, probably a good idea. Sorry, I’m not going to be great company.”

“You unconscious is much better company than you conscious.”

I grin at him. Which is apparently when the most recent addition to the clan of suicidal mammals decides to end it all and throw itself in front of the Porsche, resulting in my angrily cursing and Newbie immediately and slightly tearfully demanding I stop. I roll my eyes and pull over and we both inspect the aftermath.

“We should take it to a vet.”

“It’s dead, Newbie.”

“It might survive.”

“Newbie, it’s head’s a good three feet away from it’s body. And it’s body is smeared up most of my front bumper. You’re supposed to be a doctor, for God’s sake. It looks like one of Nervous Guy’s patients.”

“We should bury it.”

“No, we shouldn’t. But I should probably get the Porsche washed and buffed.”

He glares at me, so I end up booting the remnants of the raccoon over to a bush on the verge as a sort of middle ground. Newbie, apparently feeling that the raccoon with a death wish requires some form of grave marker, retrieves a flower from the field and drops it onto the bush.

“Okay, so we’ve now properly sent off El Bandito, can we get going?”

“Yeah…”

He gets back into the Porsche and curls up in the passenger seat as I wipe as much raccoon blood and guts as possible off my shoes and then the front of the Porsche with a chamois leather and then throw it over to the raccoon grave site. By the time I’ve gotten back into the driver’s seat, Newbie’s fallen fast asleep, his head resting against the pillar between the two seats. I awkwardly fasten his seat belt over him and drive off again, one hand slowly creeping over to rest on his hair and start gently stroking behind his ear. He purrs softly in his sleep.

The anxious, tense feeling I’ve had for the last week, like an unpleasant knot in my stomach, finally relaxes.

\- - - - -

“Hey, Newbie.”

I’m awoken from a weird dream of a raccoon with curly hair trying to run me down in a sports car and open an eye. Doctor Cox is gently shaking me.

“Huh?”

“We’re at my place, Newbie. Want me to carry you again?”

I sit bolt upright, embarrassed. “ _No_. I didn’t want you to carry me first time.”

He smirks at me. “Really? You had me fooled, swooning all over the place. I know I have deeply appealing manly arms, but you don’t have to practically collapse to get into them Teresa.”

“Yeah yeah,” I mutter, mainly to myself, unbuckling my seat belt and scrambling out, pulling my bag out of the back seat and keeping my eyes downcast.

“What’s up with you?” Doctor Cox is frowning at me.

“Eyes, remember? I don’t want anyone seeing me.”

“There’s no one here, Sophie. You’re fine.”

I keep stubbornly staring at my feet and he sighs, leading the way and I follow him, fixedly watching his feet. He’s still got some raccoon fur on his shoes.

Once the floor eventually changes to his apartment’s impersonal laminate (seriously, not even a rug or anything, it’s like he wants to live in a prison cell) I look around me again.

“Thanks for having me over. I know it’s not really your ideal weekend.”

He half-shrugs at me. “Maybe I missed you this week.”

I blink at him, unsure whether he’s teasing me or not. If I say I missed him too he’ll inevitably start ranting at me about how gullible I am and _of course_ he didn’t miss me, Melissa, he was absolutely _be-he-he-side_ himself at the lack of annoying colleagues bothering him and prattling about nonsense and staring into space.

I’ve apparently been staring into space for too long, imagining his rant, which is possibly about to trigger an entirely separate rant as he gives me an annoyed glance and sighs.

“Sorry… still a bit, uh, heat-y.”

“Yeah, sure Daisy, you doing that is so uncharacteristic. Are you hungry?”

“Uh, kinda. But you don’t need to feed me, I can… er…” I’ve suddenly realized I can’t go pick anything up, since Sasha’s still at the apartment and I’m looking extremely omega right now.

“Exactly, you can... er… _nahwt_ look after yourself right now. Why don’t you speak to your brother and reassure him you haven’t murdered anyone in your heat?”

“For all you know I did,” I retort, stung. He didn’t even ask how it went.

“Lily, Cohen would absolutely have told me if you’d murdered someone. Probably would have wanted to study you jumping around in their entrails and requested my permission. He gave me a run down, no need to sound so pissy with me.”

Oh shit, he did? What did he say? “Uh, how did he say it went? Did he say I was weird?”

“You are weird, Newbie, I don’t need professional confirmation of that. He’s going to send a medical report through with the details in, I’ll show it to you when I get it. But basically, yeah, you’re apparently a healthy, slightly psychotic dominant omega who produces too much bite venom and are still fertile, if you were interested.”

“Ew.”

“Yeah, my thoughts exactly. Oh, your heats are pretty extreme. Cohen has this theory you’re at the higher end of dominant, which apparently explains that and all the venom you drool out.”

“Oh,” I frown. “That doesn’t sound particularly great.”

“Might explain the failing inhibitors, Newb. Sounds like your pheromones are more powerful than average, which I am kinda getting now you’re all drug-free.”

“Shit, am I releasing them?”

He gives me an exasperated look. “Kid, you’ve been releasing them constantly since I saw you. Didn’t you learn how to control them when you presented? I remember going through a load of training on it.”

“Yeah, I did, but I’ve been on inhibitors for thirteen years, I think I’ve kinda lost the knack.”

I try to stop it, but honestly, it feels incredibly weird. It’s like being asked to stop blinking, I can sort of figure out how to do it if I concentrate but it feels scratchy and unnatural.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m getting used to it, it’s kinda relaxing if I’m honest. Like being in a pomegranate grove, or whatever the hell pomegranates grow in.”

“I smell relaxing?”

He narrows his eyes at me. “Don’t make me regret saying that, just ring your moron brother and I’ll make something for us.”

“What if he wants to talk to you?”

“Tell him I’m providing for you, something your ‘responsible’ alpha is apparently incapable of doing.”

“I don’t need to be provided for.”

“Yeah, tell that to my back after a four hour journey to pick your ass up.”

“Is your back hurting? I could give you a massage if you want, Greg was teaching me-“

He briefly smells strange, an odd combination of worried, jealous and curious before he shuts it down and snaps “it was a joke, Newbie” before stalking off to the stove and clattering around, loudly announcing the end of the conversation. I sigh and retrieve the iPad from my backpack and let it reconnect to his WiFi.

Dan doesn’t respond to my call. I frown slightly and send him a WhatsApp message letting him know I’m okay and out of the clinic. I sigh and curl up on the sofa checking on what I’ve missed while I’ve been going through my heat. Not much, as it happens, although Iolite has updated her vlog with a short but somehow rambling post that she’s made a friend recently and she hopes the friend gets in contact with her again soon. I’m guessing that’s aimed at me.

“Why are you reading this emotional bullshit rather than calling your useless brother?”

I jump, not realizing that he was behind me, leaning over the back of the sofa. I would normally be able to smell him, but it's more difficult in his home, everything smells of him anyway.

“He’s not answering.”

He plucks the iPad out of my hand and reads the blog. “Is she wittering on about Barbie in this?”

“Uh, I dunno. Maybe.” I don’t think he’d be impressed if I told him about my conversation with Iolite. Or my conversation with Greg, actually. In fact, I think he would be _really_ unimpressed if he knew about quite a lot of the stuff that’s been going on.

And he’ll probably be even more annoyed that I’m keeping it from him.

I suddenly realize I’ve had more conversations with other omegas about being omega in the last fortnight than I have throughout my entire life. How’s that for some personal development?

The iPad starts to chime with an incoming call. I try to take it from Doctor Cox, who hangs onto it and presses the “accept” icon, meaning that Dan initially gets a view up my nose as I try to get the iPad back.

“Johnny?”

Doctor Cox shoves me and I sprawl back down onto the sofa, out of shot. “Hey Dan,” I call back.

“Hey Coxer.”

“Hi Dan.”

“I’m assuming the rest of Johnny is out of heat clinic, not just his nostrils?”

Doctor Cox briefly turns the iPad to me sprawled on the sofa. I wave at Dan.

“Heyyy lil’ brother.”

Doctor Cox turns the iPad back to himself, frowning at it as he does so. “Where’ve you been?”

“Jeez, I was in the bathroom. I don’t think anyone wants me to answer a video call on the crapper, what do you think?”

Doctor Cox looks revolted and then gives me a long-suffering look.

“Johnny’s looking good, that clinic obviously-“

“Yes, he is,” Doctor Cox snarls back, suddenly looking furious. “I didn’t realize that shit was making him ill. Why the hell have you been allowing him to inject that stuff into himself, knowing-“

Hang on, what? Oh, hell no, he’s not starting this up, all this alpha bullshit about the inhibitors being bad for us. Just because I happen to look _prettier_ like this doesn’t mean I’m sick when I’m on the inhibitors, they just make me look normal. Less _freakish_.

“ _I_ inject that stuff into me knowing that I need to. Dan doesn’t let me do anything,” I growl. Doctor Cox glances at me and then looks back at Dan.

“Like he says, Coxsmith. It’s Johnny’s choice. Anyway, he looks weird when he’s omega.”

I’ve scrabbled to my feet as Dan’s been talking and gone around the back of the couch, glaring at Doctor Cox, who’s looking practically apoplectic at what Dan just said.

“He looks _weird_? Maybe he wouldn’t be so obsessed with injecting himself with that poison if morons like you didn’t say shit like that.”

I grab the iPad off him. “What’s _wrong_ with you, why are you chewing Dan out?”

He stares at me for a moment, confused. Then groans softly. “Fucking pheromones.”

“Johnny, are you doing your weird walking biological weapon thing again? Control those fucking things, you idiot, you know what they do, particularly to moronic posturing dominant alphas.”

Doctor Cox snatches the iPad back off of me. “I’d rather be a moronic posturing dominant alpha than some irresponsible bastard like you. Oh, by the way, the quack at the clinic says your brother’s medically confirmed as unmated, unbonded and fertile, so you can carry on with those revolting comments you make to him about selling him.”

He thrusts the iPad back at me and stalks over to the stove. I stare after him, confused. What the hell is going on? This isn’t just my pheromones, he said earlier they made him relaxed. He’s stressed as hell right now.

“Johnny, what’s going on?”

I look back at Dan. “Dunno. Look, I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Yeah. Watch out for him, Johnny, his eyes’ve gone crazy.”

“They always are. See ya.”

I end the call and go over to the kitchen area, sitting on one of the bar stools and watching him. He glances at me briefly and then continues pouring some stock over something in a pan, ignoring me. I sigh, focus and try to remember how to do this. I did this during my heat and it felt as natural as breathing, but it’s not as easy now. I frown in concentration and then nearly crow when I manage to release a wash of soothing pheromones. A second later he stiffens slightly and looks back at me.

“You don’t need to do that, Newbie, that’s a defense mechanism.”

“I’m not doing it in defense. Just you seem upset.”

I release another wave of them, stronger than the first lot. He gives me a slightly worried look. “I see what your idiot brother meant about you being a biological weapon. Did you do that to him at some point?”

“Yeah, it knocked him out.”

He smirks. “It would, that’d be like chloroform to a recessive alpha. Alright, Newbie, I get it, you’re concerned. Stop trying to drug me happy again or whatever it is you’re attempting here.”

“It’s supposed to comfort you.”

“Alright, Sharon, let’s say I’m comforted. Stop doing it now, okay? I don’t like you trying to affect my mood, even if it’s with the best intentions.”

Oh. Now I feel manipulative. I slump my shoulders and try to shut off the pheromones, which I think I manage successfully. “Sorry. I didn’t think of it like that.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it, omegas are told they’re supposed to calm alphas down. If you don’t then anything that happens is seen as on you, right? Just do me a favor Newbie, don’t intentionally try to alter my mood and I’ll do the same.”

“You mean I’ve unintentionally already done that?”

He rolls his eyes at me before turning back to the stove. “Yes, obviously. You know you have Newbie, you little bastard. You were releasing so many damn mating pheromones on the drive to the clinic that I barely had any damn blood left to keep my brain functional.”

I blush and try to protest, but he cuts me off. “Look, I know you couldn’t control that, don’t sweat it. Same as I’ve accidentally pushed you into that weird submission mode when I was annoyed with your stupid brother. Just… let’s not intentionally do any of that shit, okay? Unless one or the other asks for it.”

“’Kay…”

He sighs. “Fine, Newbie, stop sounding so sad. Look, here, I’m stressed right now. I’d appreciate it if you did your weird voodoo biology bullshit on me and made me feel less like I’m about to imminently go into cardiac arrest, how’s that?”

I beam at him and release the pheromones again, which appear to have become more concentrated than I intended. I see him visibly relax, although he adds “alright, Celia, dial it down or I’ll end up stoned.”

“Why are you so stressed? You can’t blame the pheromones, I haven’t been releasing any… um, mood altering psychedelic ones until just now.”

“I can blame them slightly, Janice, being around omega pheromones will tend to make alphas somewhat protective, whether they want to be or not.”

I frown. “Protective? What, just because Dan called me weird looking? You know I don’t take inhibitors because my stupid brother calls me weird, right?”

He glances at me again, pausing from cooking whatever it is that he’s cooking. He looks slightly uneasy.

“I don’t. Look, Dan even saying shit like that – creepy eyes and looking weird and stuff – that’s what he did when I presented. I was… I was pretty upset. Those were all things I said about myself.”

“What, so it’s fine because you said them?”

“No, it’s fine because if Dan had suddenly become all… I dunno, _nice_ about the whole thing I would have felt even worse. So he teased me, called me ridiculous shit to make me laugh. Honestly, everyone else was suddenly treating me different. He treated me just the same and could get me to find it funny sometimes. If anyone else did it he’d kill them though…”

He seems to have stopped smelling stressed so I shut off the corresponding comforting pheromones, slightly concerned I might actually end up getting him too mellow and then he’d get munchies or something.

“Alright, fine I’m convinced that your brother isn’t a complete and utter asshole and you aren’t on inhibitors because of him.”

I roll my eyes as he dishes up whatever the food is onto plates. “Of course I’m not, you know why I’m on them. Why are you being so weird about this? And what was with you saying about Dan's ‘revolting comments’ about selling me?”

He sighs and shoves a plate of risotto at me. “Eat that.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “I’ll eat it if you tell me what’s eating you.”

He groans. “Is that a really weak attempt at a pun, Newbie?”

“Yeah.”

“Jesus.”

“I know, I’m ashamed of myself.”

“I’m ashamed of you too.”

He sits down opposite me with his own plate and sighs again.

“Let’s assume I’m aware I bring nothing but shame to everyone who knows me. But tell me what’s wrong. Please.”

I’m not allowed to manipulate him with pheromones so I make sure I fully meet his eyes, thinking the omega eye thing might work. Also, they’re a lot less creepy than I remember them now. He stares back at me for a moment and then starts to eat the risotto. After a minute he speaks.

“Look, it’s… well, you’ve got a rough idea of my childhood, right?”

I nod. “Yeah, sounds like your dad wasn’t… um, wasn’t great.”

“He was a drunk, Newbie.” He looks at me flatly. “If I’m going to be spilling my guts here you can damn well eat that as I do so, nnnkay?”

I nod and shovel some rice into my mouth.

“He was a drunk and he was also a recessive alpha. My mother was a recessive omega. My dad didn’t beat her up because he thought it was inappropriate to slap an omega about. Didn’t stop him being a total asshole to her and telling her she was worthless, but he saved the occasional whack or bottle at the head for me. And then my sister, when she came along, although I tried to deflect it from her as much as possible.”

He looks lost for a moment, staring into the distance. “I presented as alpha when I was twelve.” He makes a weird expression, a twisted, sarcastic grin. “My dad was _delighted_. Chip off the old block and all that. He ended up slightly freaked out when I ended up as dominant, realized I could beat the shit out of him, but he'd stopped most of that shit by then. My mother barely spoke to me after I presented. She was terrified I’d end up just like him.”

“What?”

He looks back at me, the same humorless smile on his face. “She wasn’t the smartest woman, Newb. She’d been sold to some piece of shit alpha by the alpha pieces of shit in her family. As far as she was concerned, alphas were bad people. She was just trying to protect herself.”

“From her own child?”

He shrugs. “We were never close. I’m not gonna claim it wasn’t painful, but… well, it had always been me and Paige against the world in my head. Her being like that just cemented that to me.”

I’ve always thought my family life was some depressing tragedy, divorced parents, Mom marrying everyone she met and then all the shit that happened after I presented. I guess I hadn’t realized that there were other, much worse, things that could happen to a family that could wreck it way more than what happened to mine. That something self-combusting is somehow worse than outside influences ripping it apart.

“Of course, I was hoping Paige would be beta. Or alpha. I mean, my dad would have been furious at a female alpha, he called them unnatural, but at least… but as I guess you’ve probably figured out, Paige presented as omega at thirteen. Dominant omega.”

“Dominant?”

“Yeah, it’s unusual. It can happen. Only time I ever saw my dad physically hurt my mom was when Paige presented, he was convinced you couldn’t have a dominant alpha and a dominant omega siblings from the same parents. I had to find some medical textbooks and show him it had happened to try to stop him beating the hell out of her. Might be why I ended up wanting to be a doctor, actually…”

He trails off and blindly eats some more of the risotto. “As soon as he realized what sort of price he could charge he shut the hell up about that though.” He flinches sharply. “She was sent off to one of those finishing school things, trained to be a ‘proper omega’. And I watched my little sister vanish, piece by piece.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighs. “She was a spunky little kid. And when she presented she was a spunky little omega. Demanded nobody treat her different, carried on as she had been, kicking about in the yard covered in mud. My mom tried to make act more demure and Paige ignored her. And… my dad… well, he said shit about her being omega. ‘I can see your shoulders, cover up’, ‘keep your eyes downcast, don’t let any of them see your freakish eyes unless you want trouble’, ‘stop releasing those fucking pheromones, want everyone to know what a whore you are?’. It slowly chipped away at her, made her embarrassed and ashamed of what she was. When she went into heat for the first time he called her a slut for crying for an alpha, which is what omegas _do_ , they can’t help it. Said she should control herself better, like it was her fault.”

His voice has gone soft, tired. I want to reach over and take his hand, but stop myself, relatively sure it’s just the lingering heat hormones wanting physical contact and that he won’t appreciate it. “I’m sorry. What Dan was saying must have been pretty awful for you. But it wasn’t like that for me. I’m very grateful it wasn’t.”

He nods, not looking at me. “Well, unsurprisingly, my dad sold Paige when she was sixteen. I tried to fight it, I’d been trying to look after her for her whole life, but I couldn’t override it. She’d bonded to my father, not me, although even if she had then I probably still wouldn’t have had a say.”

I frown. “Why didn’t she bond to you if you’d been looking after her?”

He shrugs. “Sibling bonds are pretty unusual, Newbie. They tend to only happen if there’s no alpha parent, a father or mother will usually trump a sibling, no matter how close the siblings are. It makes sense too, not really fair or practical for a kid to have that feeling of responsibility over another kid. So, she was sold. For one hell of a lot, she was a dominant, unmated omega and she was a pretty kid. And my dad got a whack extra for releasing her at sixteen, not eighteen.”

“But that’s illegal-“

“No, Newbie, it’s illegal for anyone else. Paige was property as soon as she presented, remember? Statutory rape doesn’t qualify on someone’s _property_.”

His face twists. “My dad paid for my medical school fees with some of that damn money. He thought he’d won the goddamn genetic lottery, dominant alpha son becoming a doctor, dominant omega daughter as the perfect trophy wife for some rich asshole. When I qualified I kept saving up, kept trying to get the money back to Paige. I didn’t want to have profited from my little sister’s sale. But she refused anything back, even when her bastard mate started to get violent with her when she kept miscarrying.”

“What?”

“Yeah, ridiculous, right? She was likely doing it because she was so scared of him, dominant omega biology is pretty damn sensitive to shit like that. I kept telling her that I had money, that I could help her get out of there. She was just… broken though. She’d stopped being herself years before, turned into some weird Stepford Wife, obsessed with being the ‘perfect’ omega. God, she even acted stupid, thinking that’s what was required of her. She was a fucking smart girl. She loved science, loved natural history. And then she pretended she was into… into scrapbooking and kids. She _hated_ kids, they annoyed the hell out of her.”

He shoves his fork around his empty plate and looks down at it. “He murdered her in the end. Decided she was worthless and throttled the life out of her so he could buy a new one.”

I’ve frozen, trying so hard to stop the horrified scent I can already smell on myself. He glances back up at me, the same horrible rictus smile on his face. “Oh yeah, Newbie. She was that replaceable to him. And my dad… well, he tried to sue for property damage and lost all that blood money he got. Served him right. It was nothing to do with Paige, it was about him losing any funding from them. He didn’t think any more of her and he was her _father_. Fucker ended up destitute and dying from cirrhosis. And I didn’t shed one fucking tear for him. I did try to get justice for her, but nobody was interested. Even the most sympathetic of the lawyers and police – and they do exist, Newbie – couldn’t do anything because the law’s so clear on this. And that’s maybe why I get a _teensy_ bit annoyed at how damn blasé your brother is about this whole thing. I’m assuming he just doesn’t understand the risks you’re running, since he does seem to care.”

“I… I’m not going to get-“

“You don’t _know_ what’s going to happen, Newbie. Look, I sure as hell understand how unfair it all is, I do. And you’re a damn good doctor. But if you slip up – and let’s face it, at some point you will because you’re human – you’re going to be putting yourself in all this danger. Is it _worth_ it? You know what an alpha could do to you? How much one could hurt you and use your being an omega as an excuse? And how little the law would care? Hell, you’d get _blamed_ like Amber FitzAlan, the poor little naïve kid.”

“Not all alphas are bad,” I say softly, looking at him pointedly. He scoffs.

“Oh, are you casting me as the hero in this, Newbie? _No._ I claim I’ve never been with an omega because I don’t like my biology being thrown around, because I find it undignified to be completely ruled by my hormones. Hell, I sometimes believe that shit. But I’ve seen how alphas treat omegas and I don’t want to suddenly realize I’m just the same as all those assholes.”

I give up resisting it and hop off the bar stool, walking around to him and wrapping my arms around his shoulders, pressing my face against the top of his head. He freezes for a moment and I wonder if I’m about to get punched before he leans against me heavily. I press my nose against his curls and softly stroke his back, resisting the urge to nuzzle into him; there’s only so much I can get away with, I suspect. He abruptly wraps an arm around me, pulling me closer, one of his hands spanning across the small of my back and looking up at me, an intense expression in his eyes. I gaze back down at him, feeling his hand start to gently rub soothing circles against my spine. There’s something in his expression, a soft, longing look, somehow overlaid over something more fierce. Something primal. I want to lean down, want to kiss him, want to connect us and ignite us and make everything better, make him see. I can feel my eyelids hood over my eyes slightly as I look at him, trying not to let my eyes linger over his lips.

“Is this your heat? Cohen said you’d likely get anxious without physical contact.”

I want – God, I really want – to be brave enough to say “it can be if you want to blame that”. But the old fear is running back over me and my senses have kicked back into play again to start screaming at me that this is a terrible idea and I can’t possibly do this with my only ally, can’t wreck this, this is too important to screw up.

“Yeah, I guess. Sorry.” I pull back regretfully, not meeting his gaze. “I’ll… uh, I’ll just wash this stuff up.”

“Don’t worry about it-“

“Stop telling me what to do,” I snap at him, then shake my head, closing my eyes and dipping my head. “Sorry… sorry. Let me tidy up please. Thanks for cooking, that was great. I want to be useful. Please.”

There’s a pause and I don’t dare look at him, don’t want to give away how vulnerable I’m feeling right now. Then he speaks, sounding oddly strained and sad. “Sure Newbie. Thanks.”

\- - - - -

I can’t sleep.

I’m not sure if it’s just from not being alone for the last week at the clinic or the horror story about Doctor Cox’s sister, but I’m just staring at the ceiling, my eyes itching from tiredness. I’ve tried making a nest on the bed, but I seem to have lost the knack now I’m out of heat and just feel slightly ridiculous doing it. Then I tried listening to music on my headphones. And now I’m just staring and I figure I’ll go into the sitting room and get a drink or something to see if that helps.

Doctor Cox is sat in the dark on the sofa, drinking a scotch, wearing a T shirt and lounge pants. I jump slightly, feeling awkward at him seeing in my jammies. The shorts are a bit… short. I was thinking they’d be good for heats.

“Hey Newbie.”

“Hey. Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“Can’t sleep, huh?”

“No… I was thinking I should get a drink.”

He lifts the scotch bottle at me and I wrinkle my nose. “I don’t drink scotch.”

“There’s one on the cabinet over there that has honey in it. Figure that might just be enough to not overpower your delicate palette.”

Ooh, honey. I retrieve it and pour some into a glass that's sat by the collection of scotch on the sideboard, realizing that it's one of the ones that I bought for him. I glance at the scotch suspiciously before taking a sip. “Oh my God, it’s like mead and scotch had a baby.”

“You’ve had mead?”

“I may or may not have gone to Renaissance fairs occasionally.”

I dress up as a jester or a bard usually, whilst Turk is always Sir Smitesalot.

“Oh my God, you are such a dork.”

I sit down on the couch next to him and clink my glass with his. “Yep.”

He looks at me sideways and takes a sip of scotch. “What’s up?”

“Dunno. I figure it’s probably that I’ve not slept alone for the last week.” I frown and then hurriedly add: “Not that I’ve _slept with_ anyone. Or… well, I mean, I did, but not like _that_ -“

“I get it Newbie, your cherry’s still intact. I know what a heat companion does, you know.”

“Oh. I didn’t really. It’s kinda weird actually, if you think about it.”

He shrugs.

“Why are you sat in the dark drinking?”

“It’s my hobby?”

“Kind of a weird hobby.”

“Hey, everyone needs a hobby Newbie.”

“I thought you liked hiking.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well, not much opportunity to do that currently. This is more achievable.”

I sip the honey scotch and lean back against the couch. “Do I make you think about her?”

“… Sometimes…”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, that’s my problem. And if I’m honest, it’s nice to be reminded of her. I mean, _before_ all that shit happened. As she was.”

“Yeah.”

We’re both silent for a while and I can feel my eyelids start to flutter.

“That’s real flattering, Newbie. You falling asleep on me?”

I yawn. “No.”

“Go to bed.”

“I can’t sleep on my own…”

“Jesus Christ, Agatha.”

“Oh, quit bitching, just give me your shirt and I’ll go away.”

I freeze when I realize what my stupid sleepy brain just said. Doctor Cox starts laughing and I feel a flush of humiliation run over me. I abruptly shove the half drunk scotch onto the coffee table and stalk out of the room, throwing myself face down on the bed, mortified. Unfortunately he appears to have followed me into the bedroom, presumably to torment me.

“Aww, don’t be so pissy about it, Newbie. I know they gave you my shirt at the clinic-“

“Go away.”

“Jesus, have you got Post Heat Stress or something. Is PHS a thing?”

“I don’t know,” I growl back. A second later something lands on my head, his T shirt from the smell of it. I snarl and yank it off me, throwing it on the floor.

He sighs and I feel the bed dip as he sits on the edge of it. I roll over, meaning to snap at him and then freeze when I see his six pack in the moonlight. The bastard is practically _glimmering_ and that is just not acceptable. Stop staring, stop staring, stop staring-

“Hey, Francesca, my eyes are up here.”

I give an embarrassed huff and hide my face again. He makes an annoyed noise and I feel him stand up to leave.

“Don’t go,” I blurt out, looking back over at him. He freezes and then grimaces at me and I hide my head back in my arms.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“But this is your bed, I feel bad.” I tell him, still pressing my face into the bed, not daring to look at him. Also, that’s complete bullshit and I’m sure he knows that.

“It’s hardly depriving me of anything, Newbie.”

“… I sleep better with someone around. Please? I’ll… I’ll be better when I’m back on the inhibitors, please?”

This is definitely bullshit, I’ve been sleeping badly ever since this all started happening. I didn’t have sleeping problems when I was living as an omega either. But… but I want him to stay, I want… oh, it’s stupid to think about what I want, what I want is stupid and unrealistic and will be terribly destructive.

It’s just the heat, I tell myself firmly. It’s just some after-effects, there’s nothing to read into here. Nothing.

He sits back down on the edge of the bed and then – extremely carefully, like I’m an undetonated landmine – lies down next to me. I freeze in place, feeling the warmth of him next to me. The soft scent of pine and fir invades my nose and I shiver gently. He shifts next to me, keeping the distance between the two of us and I feel him move his arm.

“I thought the whole idea was that you needed physical contact?”

I look to my left to see he’s carefully extended an arm towards me. I roll onto my side and lay my arm over his, our elbows overlaid, holding his hand. He gently squeezes my hand back, matching the pressure I’m exerting against his fingers. I pillow my head on my other arm, already feeling sleepy, inhaling to confirm it’s definitely him next to me.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

I’m feeling groggy, blinking heavily. “I tried to find you.”

“I know, Newbie.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t.”

I’m pretty much asleep but I think I hear him reply “me too” quietly.

\- - - - -

I should have left when he fell asleep. I mean, I don’t need an omega to fall asleep to, I’ve managed my entire life without that.

But he was still gently gripping my hand in his sleep and part of me just wanted to watch him for a while. And when he started to unconsciously creep towards me whilst he was deeply asleep I let him. Which is how I’ve ended up with him lying against my side, his head resting on my shoulder, an arm and a leg slung loosely over me. My arm has – completely unbidden – ended up wrapped around his waist.

And then he started to softly purr in his sleep and any plan to shove him off immediately dissolved. And it’s nice. Like a weighted blanket or something. He’s very warm – not like when he was in his heat, just a constant warmth bleeding off him. Omegas run on hot, apparently.

My eyelids keep drooping and I’m desperately trying to stop this, stop the urge to fall asleep and keep telling myself to get the hell up and leave, that he probably won’t even wake up if I do. This is a terrible idea, I shouldn’t be around him without being fully conscious and completely in control of myself. I know I’m in trouble, God, I know I’m in real trouble here. I never even told Jordan the full story about Paige and here I am blurting it out to him and distressing him, probably giving the kid nightmares.

And then he hugged me and _God_ , it was so hard not to immediately grab him back and crush him to me. And how he was looking at me… I knew that all I needed to do was to tilt my head up towards him and he would have kissed me. And it had only been that niggling voice at the back of my mind, telling me that I was taking advantage of him, that it was just his heat, that stopped me from doing just that.

Shit shit shit, don’t fall asleep, you’re in trouble here Perry, stop thinking how good he smells and how much you want to just keep him safe, oh fuck. I have to get him back on the inhibitors tomorrow. Yeah, that’ll stop all this. It’s just… it’s just biology. Blame biology.

Just before I fall asleep I vaguely remember reading something about alphas having no biological drive to protect unbonded or unrelated omegas unless they’re releasing mating or distressed pheromones. Apparently my subconscious wants to point out my bullshitting to myself and so I ignore it and fall asleep, my nose pressed against Newbie's forehead, gently inhaling the comforting pomegranate scent of him.

\- - - - -

I wake up and don’t open my eyes, enjoying the feeling of Greg tangled with me, feeling like a pile of sleepy puppies. He’s even put the shirt out for me.

Only… only I left the clinic and the arms and legs entwined with mine are as long as my limbs. I frown and open my eyes.

Shit.

Doctor Cox is asleep, his face relaxed, an oddly peaceful expression on his face I’ve never seen before. I gaze at him for a moment and shift. This makes me suddenly aware that he’s got.. oh, well there’s no way to be coy about this, he’s got an erection.

I mean, it’s morning, that’s only natural, right? The fact it’s an alpha erection just makes it more noticeable because… ah, fuck, that’s gotta hurt. Although it’s probably no bigger than the stupid alpha dildos that they produce, but… ouch.

But a morning erection is totally normal. I mean, hell, I’ve got one. I mean, not like _that_ , Jesus, but still very respectable. Just because alphas practically look like they’ve got an additional limb down there doesn’t mean I’m self conscious, they look ridiculous.

I wriggle, trying to extract myself and then freeze. Okay, so I’ve got an erection _and_ apparently… ugh, slick. I very slowly move, trying not to make any more run down my leg, terrified it’ll get on the covers and he’ll smell it. I manage to successfully get off the bed and then hurry to the bathroom as I feel gravity take it’s inevitable toll and the stuff starting to run down my leg in viscous, gluey strands.

Ugh ugh ugh. I kick off my shorts in the bathroom and then turn the shower on, dousing them in the water to try to get rid of it, feeling my face flushing as I do so. I hate this, I’ve always hated this. Always felt horribly ashamed of this unless I’m in heat. It just seems so gross and unnecessary, even if I can absolutely see, from a logistical point of view, why it would be required. I mean, God, if Doctor Cox was trying to use that ridiculous alpha cock on me then of course it would need a hell of a lot of lubrication-

To my horror I shiver in arousal and feel a pulse of the slick drool out of me in response. Oh God, no. Stop it. This is disgusting, stop it. This is so humiliating, I’m such a slave to this stuff when I’m like this.

_You weren’t like this before. You got a few crushes, had a few wet – very literally extremely wet – dreams before you were on the inhibitors, but you never got like this_.

I shake my head. Well, obviously not. I was a kid, I was… I was pre-heat. And then I was on inhibitors and they stopped it. It’s just a biological reaction. Nothing to read into, nothing to be ashamed of. Just get back onto the damn inhibitors.

I get into the shower and try desperately to scrub away all the evidence, furiously telling myself off. Why the hell did I do that? Honestly, _what the hell_? Asking a dominant alpha to sleep in the same bed as me. What was I _thinking_?

_I was thinking that I trust him and he wouldn’t do anything. Why am I beating myself up about that? Jesus, after what happened to his sister do you think he’d really do anything like that?_

Well, no. But… but still. Am I this dumb that I think I can just ask any alpha to just-

_You didn’t ask any alpha to. You asked_ him _to. And he’s not just any alpha, he’s-_

Dammit, shut up, I need to get back on the inhibitors _now_.

\- - - - -

I wake up, a pleasant scent clinging to the air around me. My eyes still closed I reach out my hands, feeling only the cooling bed next to me. I open my eyes and frown.

There’s a lingering aroma in the air, pomegranates and something else that makes me feel fuzzy and pleased and content. I shake my head slightly and sit up, wincing as my morning erection makes itself known. Well, shit. I hope that’s a development that’s occurred since Newbie vacated the goddamn bed.

I shove at it, annoyed. Fucking thing. Think of something unpleasant, Bob Kelso in his fucking mildly racist golf pants. Mother Sullivan. The scent of defeat and hopelessness around Teddy the Noxious Notary.

I groan softly and sit up. I slept better than I really had any right to do, considering I essentially fell asleep in a panic about what I might do this morning. Only it’s fine, he’s not here – I didn’t do anything, right? I scan through my memories desperately, but no, no memory of anything apart from his gentle breathing, soft purring, the sensation of his arm across my naked chest and his bare leg slung over my hip, the nearly unbelievable softness and smoothness of his milky skin, his hair tickling my face slightly, marveling at the textures and sensations of him, biting back the urge to stroke and caress and Jesus, to _taste_ -

My cock throbs and I pull myself out of _that_. Stop that. I frown down at my erection, telling it to fuck right off. Then give up and go deal with it in the shower.

\- - - - -

JD’s sat on the couch, doing something on his iPad when I emerge from the shower, hoping he didn’t hear the choked noise I made when I dealt with myself in here. He glances up at me.

“Hey. I tried to make coffee but… uh, I’m not quite sure what happened. Sorry.”

I smell burnt coffee and look over at the coffee pot. “How the hell did you manage that? You just need to add hot water.”

“I did…” He glances over at it, confused. “But that just sort of happens around me. I once set fire to a heat-proof mat in chem class. That’s supposed to be impossible.”

“I’ll make some.”

“Uh, first, would you mind…” he points at the first aid kit he’s set out next to him. “I’d appreciate it if you’d…”

Part of me is baying miserably, not wanting to lose him as he is. Arguably he’s really not that much different as a beta, but… but… oh… but yeah, hopefully I can get more of a grip of myself if he’s on them. It’s for the best, no matter how much I resent it.

“Sure. Any particular reason you waited? I know you’re a bit pissy about my insisting on doing it.”

He shrugs. “The last couple times I’ve passed out. I’m… I’m kinda scared to do it myself, to be honest. That syringe is _big_ , if I fainted it could… well, let’s just say, I don’t want to chance that.”

I frown. “Are you sure you want to try right now? I mean, if you’re worried about it we could wait.”

“I _need_ to,” he insists, an odd, desperate undercurrent in his voice. “And I’d need to find out now, right? If it fails I’ll have to try something else, so need some time to come up with a plan B.”

“I guess,” I take the bastard, vicious syringe and fill it, mechanically going through the motions. He turns his head to bare his clavicle for me and I pause, briefly looking at his shoulder, for once unbruised from the repeated treatments. I stroke a thumb over it gently, mimicking a motion of pulling the skin taut. I sigh and then inject him.

We both wait, slightly nervously. He remains lucid, his eyes don’t roll up, although he does seem to flinch slightly and pale. Then I watch his eyes change back, quietly lamenting to myself about losing a part of him, a horrible ghost of Paige, slowly drifting away into blank obscurity and telling me ‘it’s alright Perry, I’m fine, what more could I want, my life’s perfect’ in a terrible drone with no inflection or life left in her.

I force a smile. “Hey. That seems to have worked.”

He gives me a shaky smile back. “Yeah. Yeah, maybe it really did reset.” He sighs a reprieve. “You have no idea how relieved I am.”

He takes a tablet and dry swallows it smoothly, no hitches.

I’m glad, I tell myself as I go make coffee. Of course I’m glad, I’m not remotely disappointed, that would be sick. Completely sick.

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kicking the angst up a bit in this chapter. Poor Paige. Poor Perry. Poor everyone...
> 
> Incidentally, does anyone know what pomegranates grow in? I did consult Doctor Google on this, but couldn't find a definitive answer.


	11. 11. My Illuminating Dates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the horrible levels of angst last chapter, this one is much more chilled out.
> 
> Incidentally, yeah, I know, I write some really unpleasant stuff sometimes. I'm trying to balance it against the sillier/fluffier/cutsier content, but I'm afraid that's just how I write - the world, and particularly this world, is not always a nice place. I've always liked how Scrubs could be funny and silly one minute and then switch to dark themes when you weren't expecting it. This fic emulates that to a degree and I think I also just am a slightly cynical person, for want of a better way of phrasing it.
> 
> Some more education about omegas for JD coming up :)

**My Unorthodox Treatment**

**by RumCove**

**My Illuminating Dates**

Disclaimer: Scrubs original characters belong to Bill Lawrence and NBC/ABC/Doozer Productions etc. Basically, not owned by me. I own the original characters in this work.

I glance around the apartment carefully, checking that Carla and Turk aren’t home. I know I stink of alpha from staying at Doctor Cox’s apartment after the heat clinic and that would be incredibly hard to explain. No one seems to be here though.

“Hey guys, I’m back.”

Yep, no response. Thankfully. Not sure how long I have, I hurry into my bedroom and unpack all my laundry, stripping off my clothes as I do so and then bundling everything together and shoving it into the washer. I set that going, which deals with the worst of it, before showering off the rest.

When Turk and Carla finally get home I’m just finishing off a report on tests on a new anti-inflammatory drug to treat arthritis that I’ve been reading for about a month now, slouched on the couch.

“Hey man,” Turk greets me cheerfully as I toss the journal onto the coffee table and grin at them both.

“Hi guys.”

“You’re looking… well, Bambi.” Carla’s frowning at me slightly.

“Yeah, turns out home is surprisingly good for me,” I widen my grin at her slightly, hoping I look chill and pleased that I’m looking fiiiiine, rather than manic and worried that she might suspect something. Although I’ve no idea who would look at someone who appears to be beta and think “wow, your hair looks good, you must be a secret omega”.

“You guys fancy The Colonel tonight?” I ask, partially to change the subject and partially because I’m starving.

“Yeah, JD, because we really fancy a load of fried chicken and fries.” Carla rolls her eyes.

“Are you being sarcastic, baby? Because I really do.”

“Great. They have any salad, Bambi?”

I scoff and then hurriedly check the website when she gives me an angry look.

\- - - - -

I spend the next couple weeks incredibly hungry. I practically demolished the bucket of chicken, having to bite back a growl when Carla inevitably tried to eat some of my fries after her salad was unfulfilling and a bit limp and pathetic. I kind of assume this is in response to not eating much during the heat, but it’s slightly unnerving. I don’t usually eat all that much and now I’m suddenly desperate to basically eat everything.

There’s some other weird stuff going on and I figure it’s to do with all my hormones resetting. Although I stop looking quite so… _pretty_ as Greg put it (ugh), my hair and skin both seem to not quite revert to their previous beta appearance. It’s also slightly harder to focus (which Doctor Cox would laugh at, since he claims I don’t ever focus at all) and I’m getting occasional mild headaches.

My sleep remains pretty terrible and when I do sleep I have weird dreams. I don’t remember most of them, just waking up disoriented and freaked out. And occasionally really horny.

I had one awful dream that I awoke from panting and whining, about a second away from howling, having to literally swallow the damn wail down. It was one of those incredibly vivid dreams that feels horribly real at the time and immediately starts to become fuzzy when you wake up. Trying to recall it after, it was some vile combination of what happened to Paige and Amber and my terror of being found out and some genius deciding to get the omega registration people into Sacred Heart and them deciding I was feral.

I am honestly so scared of… of pretty much everything in that. The idea of the staff at Sacred Heart finding out about me is bad enough, the looks, the derisive, shitty comments, losing respect, losing my damn _humanity_. It shouldn’t be like that, but that’s how it would _feel_ , that’s how it felt when I presented. I’ve made a home, I’ve made a (very dysfunctional) family, the idea of that being ripped away is just so painful.

But worse… God, infinitely worse, the idea of being found out as feral. Because I _know_ I am. Or that they’d say I am, as far as I’m concerned it just means that I don’t allow myself to be rammed into some omega ‘box’ and categorized in a way I don't want to be. If someone tried to attack me I’d defend myself (that’s just basic human nature), but that would almost certainly label me as feral. And my getting an education, training as a doctor, _being_ a doctor, keeping my omega status under the radar, that would definitely result in them deciding I was feral. Fighting the system, refusing to be in my ‘proper place’… it’s inevitable that I’d be assessed as a public menace and forcibly bonded.

I may have almost immediately forgotten the dream, but I remember one scene vividly. Getting dragged away, some bastard biting me without my permission and me screaming at Doctor Cox for help. And him just looking at me with blank eyes and shrugging, telling me I shouldn’t have put myself in this position, Shelley, what did I really expect?

I managed to stop the howl, but not the tears, curled up on myself, forehead against my knees, hands tangled in my hair and sobbing silently, trying to choke down the pain and terror.

Apart from utterly horrifying dreams, there’s other weird shit going on. Alphas start to smell _really_ strange. I don’t want them anywhere near me. It’s annoying, I could always smell them before and it didn’t really bother me. But now it’s pretty unpleasant, I can feel myself on edge and angry whenever it happens. Which is unfortunate, considering I live with one.

Obviously, there’s one exception. And I want to be around him even more than I used to, which I have to quash constantly.

I figure that it’ll all even out eventually, it’s probably just the shock of going into heat for the first time in so long. It’s not surprising I’m feeling oddly raw and sensitive. It’s just uncomfortable, it’ll pass. Please _please_ let it pass.

I also acutely notice the lack of another omega - or one I can actually relax around, I’ve always got to be careful with Carla. She’s way too perceptive sometimes and I have noticed her paying a bit more attention to Doctor Cox and me at work. I think she’s just doing her usual ‘tiger mom’ thing and checking he’s not being too Coxish to me, but the focus is a bit unnerving. She might figure something out if she pays too much attention. And I’m betting it won’t be what she’s expecting to find.

To be honest, it’s kinda annoying. I’m not a _child_ , I don’t need her to look after me. It’s bad enough with Doctor Cox treating me the way he is, but at least I know he’s worried about the omega thing and he’s an alpha, he’s driven to do it to a certain degree. She isn’t, she just thinks I’m… what? Naïve? Infantile? I mean… from her point of view I’m a doctor and a beta. Why does she think I need her to look out for me? She’s the one who complains about omegas being powerless and disadvantaged all the time, why does she think she needs to try to protect a beta?

I know it’s because she cares… but honestly, arghhhh.

Anyway, Carla’s out as an omega to hang around with. Greg gave me his number before I left the clinic and I’ve been messaging him, but it’s not hugely helpful to quash down my weird 'omega craving'. I can’t _smell_ him and don’t really have the time to drive up to the coast to see him. It’s nice to catch up with him, but not what I need. So I take Iolite up on her offer to meet up, messaging her as ‘Saboteur’ on her vlog and getting an immediate delighted response. Which is why I’m currently awkwardly hanging around on a street corner waiting for her and recapping the last couple weeks in my head. I’m due for my shot tomorrow and I haven’t noticed any apparent lapses in the inhibitors, no release of pheromones or anything. I’m partially hanging around with an omega tonight to test the inhibitors, considering Amber's pheromones seem to be what initially caused the inhibitors to fail. Iolite smells similar to how she did and, after all, them failing in the company of another omega who knows what I am would be the best place for them to-

“Hi!”

I jump and look sideways to find Iolite standing next to me and grinning.

“Dammit Iolite, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

I realize that I was taken by surprise since she seems to have gotten more of a control over her pheromones compared to when I last saw her, she’s not constantly releasing them any more. She gives me a sullen look in response, an oddly childish expression on her face.

“Not my fault you weren’t paying attention. Is that what you’re planning on wearing?”

She’s looking at my jeans and long sleeved T shirt with misgiving and I’m suddenly horribly reminded of high school and the group of omegas who constantly made cutting comments about what I was wearing, despite my dressing pretty much the same as everyone else. I frown at her, taking in her shorts, low cut top, black leather jacket and fingerless gloves. Her enormous boots are knee-length today.

“I didn’t know there was a dress code. Anyway, what about you?”

She looks down at herself. “What?”

“You look like you’ve escaped from an S and M dungeon.”

She blinks. “Is it wrong?”

“I can’t really comment on fashion. As you’ve picked up, it’s not exactly my strong suit.”

She’s still staring at herself. “Amber’d usually tell me if I was dressed wrong. She understood that sort of thing. I just wear what I want.”

“Do you ever wear footwear that’s not huge, by the way?”

She pulls a face. “Fine for you to say, you’re tall. If you were tiny then you might be tempted by it too.”

“Not likely, I fall over enough wearing normal shoes. C’mon, where is this place?”

Iolite starts walking forward, apparently distracted from obsessing about whether her clothes are 'correct' or not. “This place is cool, it has great cocktails.”

“Do they do appletinis?”

“Well, _obviously_.”

“And there’s no alphas?”

“Nope.” She grins. “They aren’t allowed. They hate that, they periodically try to get these places closed down.”

“Well, it is kinda exclusionary-“

Iolite gives me a withering look. “Right, because them being able to go literally everywhere else doesn’t make up for them not being able to go into some basement and ogle omegas? You saw that bastard in the café, I can be thrown out of anywhere if the owner feels like insisting I need someone with me. Even _children_ don’t get treated that way.”

I shrug. “Well, yeah… but…”

“What? You think it’s acceptable I literally have fewer rights now than I did when I was seven?”

“Well… just alphas aren’t all bad, that’s all.” I think about Doctor Cox. “Some of them don’t want us treated that way either.”

“Wow, I never realized that. I take it all back,” Iolite mutters sarcastically. “Yes, obviously some do. Me calling out bad behavior doesn’t mean I think they’re all the same, you realize that? I kinda like alphas. In a sad sorta way. Anyway, why are you being all defensive? Did someone rock your world during your heat or something?”

“ _No_ ,” I respond, feeling myself blush and trying not to remember Greg using the heat aid on me when I was so heat-crazy I thought he was Doctor Cox. “I told you, I went to a heat clinic.”

“Nobody fucks you there?”

“No, of course not.”

“Oh. Well, that doesn’t sound much fun.”

We’ve come up to a door with no obvious signage. I look around warily, worried we’re about to get mugged and wondering where Iolite’s enormous alphas have gotten to. Iolite doesn’t seem to pick up on my nerves and just shoves the door open and goes through it, giving me an impatient glance when I don’t immediately follow her. I reluctantly trail after her and down some dimly lit stairs.

“Are you returning to your S and M dungeon? This seems a bit unsafe Iolite, where are your bodyguards?”

“They’re around, they’ll come if I call them.”

I’m briefly struck that I’m hanging around with someone who has actual bodyguards. I can’t decide if that’s cool or weird. I’m stopped considering this as we get to the bottom of the stairs.

It _is_ a basement, but looks like some up-market cocktail bar, stainless steel brutalist structures and smooth black glass making up the majority of the room. It’s dimly lit, a small dance floor in the corner by an enormous bar. It’s completely different from any bar I’ve been to before though, in that it’s extremely quiet, both in terms of clientele - I quickly count seven other customers – as well as just the music volume, which is muted. The lighting is a lot dimmer as well, immediately making the glowing eyes of the dominant omegas stand out even more than usual. Iolite looks almost grey next to me, apart from her emerald green eyes, which have immediately fixed on the dance floor.

“Ooh,” she says.

I look over at what’s caught her attention. There’s a slender girl dancing on her own on the dance floor, ignoring everyone else in the bar, her eyes closed and looking utterly absorbed in what she’s doing. I’d have assumed she was high if I’d seen this normally, but all of the omegas seem to be staring at her, transfixed. And I can feel myself doing it as well, finding her fluid, effortless movements drawing my eyes. I absent-mindedly take a couple steps towards her and stop myself.

“What am I looking at?” I ask Iolite. “And why can’t I stop watching it?”

I drag my eyes away from the girl with difficulty and look back at Iolite, who’s still watching the dance with a dreamy expression on her face. “You’ve never seen this before?”

“I’ve seen people _dance_ before, obviously.”

“She’s not dancing, she’s displaying.”

My eyes are already trying to crawl back to the dance floor, but I force them to remain on Iolite. “Displaying?”

“Yeah. I guess it’s a sort of mating dance, so you weren’t totally wrong.”

I look back into the corner. The girl has begun a swaying, weaving movement, her long willowy limbs moving in an almost unearthly fashion before she starts to strike various poses, smoothly arching her body as she does so. It’s oddly animalistic, despite looking incredibly artistic. I blink.

“Why is she doing a mating dance? There’s no alphas.”

The girl strikes a sudden, jerky pose, flinging her head back, sending her long black dreadlocks flying into the air and finally opening her eyes, smoky hazel glowing suddenly in the shadowed light. Iolite seems to abruptly reanimate and lets out a breath before looking back at me.

“Because ‘mating dance’ is just what alphas call it, sometimes we just like to do it to express ourselves. Like any sort of dancing, I guess, but this is more charged. And if she did that anywhere other than here then she’d get jumped on. Or maybe she wants to mate with an omega…”

I notice all the other omegas seem to reanimate as well, with the exception of Iolite who's continuing to stare at the girl, apparently still slightly hypnotized. I frown. “Why does it have that effect?”

Iolite shrugs dragging her gaze away from the girl with a wrench and then glances up at me, looking confused. “Because it looks nice? Have you never really seen it?”

“No. Do you get trained to do that or something?”

Iolite frowns. “No. We just do it.”

I glance back over at the girl. I've never done anything like that in my life or felt any urge to. I am definitely broken somehow. The rest of the omegas have started milling around again and I glance over at the one other apparent beta in the bar and-

And realize that she _isn’t_ a beta. I can’t explain why, but she just isn’t. She looks all wrong. I frown and then look back at Iolite.

“Do I look like her to you?”

Iolite glances over. “Oh. Yeah. You’re a bit more convincing, but yeah, same basic _wrongness_. How you guys look isn’t actually what’s really disconcerting, it’s the lack of pheromones. It’s like… like you have no shadow. Creepy.”

She’s gone over to the bar with me trailing after her. I notice a couple other dominant omegas notice me and have the same slight recoiling reaction I just had at the other omega on inhibitors. One smiles at me after whilst the other gives me a slightly pissed off look and backs off further.

“Geez, what’s with them?”

I’ve already despondently noticed that there’s no other dominant male omegas, just one recessive who’s looking depressingly excited at the sight of me.

“Like I said, it’s creepy.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Have a Hugo.”

She places a cocktail glass in front of me as she gets another for herself, yelling “put them on my tab, Alexi” to the barkeep. He looks over grumpily and then reacts weirdly to how she acts. She essentially _beams_ at him, grinning hugely and widening her eyes in an incredibly charming way, somehow managing to look simultaneously sweet and bashful. Alexi seems to immediately basically turn to goo at this and smiles back in a slightly transfixed way. Betas aren’t affected by pheromones, but clearly can be affected by certain manipulative techniques.

I realize with a shock that it’s a similar move that I tend to make when I’m trying to win people over. I’d always thought it was my slightly awkward mannerisms, I hadn’t realized that was some sort of omega charm technique, although thinking of it I usually do it at beta girls. Or Doctor Cox, but don’t think about that. Think about the drink I’ve just been passed in a champagne glass and don’t follow this particularly horrifying trail of thought. I take a sip. Ooh, bubbles. I love Hugo. I tell Iolite as much. She smirks before leaning heavily on me.

“Hey. Stop that.”

She glances at me in surprise. “What?”

“Why are you doing that?”

“Um. Because it’s comforting?”

Is she hitting on me? I frown at her. “What did I tell you before about personal boundaries?”

She widens her eyes at me plaintively and then releases a load of soothing pheromones that make me feel a bit dizzy. “I’m not _doing_ anything,” she whines. “I just… it’s just what we do. You really haven’t spent time with omegas, have you?”

I glance around the bar and notice that most of the other groups are huddled together, all with some form of physical contact. Most seem slightly less oddly animalistic than Iolite, an arm wrapped around a waist or a hand on a shoulder rather than a full body lean like a dog asking to be petted.

“Oh. So these guys aren’t all in relationships?”

Iolite rolls her eyes at me. “Obviously not. Look, let’s go to a booth then people might not overhear how embarrassingly clueless you are.”

I follow her, clutching my Hugo. “It’s not my fault, I’ve not-“

She shakes her head. “Yeah, I know. Sorry, that’s me being a bitch. Anyways, I’m being a bit… clingy, I guess. I always just used to essentially sprawl over Amber, she found it annoying too.”

“I’m sure she didn’t.”

“Oh, she really did. But that’s nice of you to say.”

She clambers into a booth and when I sit next to her she seems to visibly make an effort to sit upright and keep her distance. I sigh.

“I don’t mind, it was kind of nice.”

She abruptly collapses against me again and then purrs very quietly. To my surprise I do it back softly and drop my cheek down onto her hair, before flinching and realizing why people all say I put too much product in my hair. This stuff is _sticky_.

“Oh. Boys do it too, I didn’t know that.”

“Huh?”

“The purring.”

She lets out a longer, lazy purr, apparently demonstrating what she means. I lift my head up and try to surreptitiously wipe the mousse off my skin and take a sip of my drink. When Iolite appears to be quite happy sitting where she is and purring I sigh again and put an arm around her.

“This is weird,” I inform her. “Like a totally non-sexual date.”

Iolite frowns at me. “I’m not non-sexual.”

Oh shit, have I accidentally gone on a date with her? I give her a horrified look and she bursts out laughing. “Calm down, I’m not hitting on you. You really are clueless, aren’t you? It’s sort of sweet. Just because omegas like snuggling each other doesn’t mean they want to screw each other, although that’s-“

“Definitely a line in porn?”

Iolite smirks. “Exactly. If an alpha came down here they’d either explode from horniness or jealousy. Or horny jealousy.”

“It’s more… sort of familial, I guess?” I try to explain it. Iolite shrugs.

“Not all the time. Just omegas like other omegas, doesn’t have to really mean anything unless… well, unless it does mean something. Anyway, how was your heat? Did you screw anyone fun?”

“Once again, Iolite, I was at a heat clinic. You don’t screw anyone there.”

“Oh. I’ve never been to a heat clinic. I thought maybe you just got to pick an alpha.”

“Nope.”

“Probably still more fun than my last heat.”

I give her a quizzical look. She sighs. “I was knocked out for most of it.” When I continue to look blank she explains: “Amber had just died. I’ve never gone through a heat on my own and I was… upset. They decided to keep me unconscious until I hit post-heat.”

“What?”

Iolite shrugs. “It was probably for the best. The last I remember I wasn’t… entirely sane.”

I think about how she was when I first met her. Whilst she still seems a bit… kooky, she seems considerably more level than she had been, despite her basically sitting in a stranger’s lap just because they’re an omega. But even if she had gone completely bat-shit crazy, surely the answer wasn’t to just sedate her? I tighten my arm around her slightly, feeling an annoying surge of protectiveness. I wonder if this is a similar feeling to how alphas get around omegas and possibly explains why Doctor Cox seems to be resentful of it. It's disconcerting to have someone you don't even know how that much power over you, just because they're small and seem sad.

Not that I'm small, as keeps getting pointed out to me. It's starting to give me a complex.

"Couldn't your Mom have helped?"

"No... she was already in shock and didn't seem to be regulating her pheromones properly. They thought exposure to me could make it worse."

"Pheromone regulation?"

She glances up at me. "You really didn't go to a finishing school, did you? Did no one tell you anything about being an omega?"

"Just what I read and all the stereotypes. Like I said, I've never really met another dominant omega."

"Poor thing," Iolite hugs me back briefly. "That must be lonely. I've never been without another omega until... until recently."

For once I don't feel patronized by this; alphas saying I'm suffering from isolation feels arrogant somehow. An omega saying it seems more sympathetic. Iolite briefly smells a strange combination of sad and protective, clearly getting confused between her own feelings and her feelings towards me. She shakes her head slightly and then looks back up at me. "So, if an omega gets badly traumatized then they can stop being able to properly regulate their pheromones. We were always warned about it in the finishing schools.

"What happens then?"

"Well... heats go all screwy. Which is obviously pretty dangerous, they stop necessarily following a regular schedule. Otherwise it's mainly psychological, omegas who can't regulate their pheromones get muddled up sometimes and can get really stressed out. Alphas would probably call it being more volatile, but it's more... reactive, I guess."

"Oh. That sounds awful, is your Mom okay?"

"Yeah, she's settled down now. It takes a lot to properly damage pheromone regulation. Alphas always claim that omegas are so vulnerable and delicate, but if we really were then we'd all get messed up from a door slamming loudly. But... obviously Amber dying really upset Mom and she's always been a bit highly strung, so my Dad and oldest brother were worried about it."

I'm struck again by the odd lack of any apparent concern for Iolite, that they'd be worried about her mother but just drug her. "What about you?"

She sighs and then shakes her head. "I'm fine. Honestly, I'm not trying to get sympathy here, stop being worried about me. My other brother's looking after me, you don't need to be concerned. There's a curly-haired recessive omega at your hospital who says she's a nurse who keeps trying to check up me as well. I told her to leave me alone, I don't need some suffocating matriarch on my case. I don't need a new _group_. People don't need to be concerned about me, honestly. I'm more bothered by you; you don't know _anything_."

Did she just refer to Carla? Also, the group comment is confusing - I've heard of omega social groupings, but didn't realize it was some sort of recruitment campaign. Although Carla does seem to target Sacred Heart's new omegas and hunt them down until they hang out with her. Maybe she has the same drive to be with other omegas as I do? I frown at Iolite, stung at her comment that I don't know anything. "Well, I do know some stuff. I'm not stupid."

"Yeah, I didn't mean it like that. If you've not been around other omegas then how do you know how to deal with stuff? Nobody will ever have answered your questions or anything, that must have been so scary. Your family was just betas and your alpha brother, right?"

"Yes, but... look, it wasn't that scary," I lie. It was terrifying.

"Well, just ask me anything. I know I'm kind of an idiot, but I should know most stuff like that, what with having a dominant omega mother and older sister. As well as the finishing schools."

"I thought you and Amber were twins?"

"Yeah, but she was ten minutes older. She liked to insist that I was the youngest."

It's actually incredibly tempting, but... but I don't think it's right to ask her that now. No matter what she says about being fine, I don't think she is and talking about omegas will just remind her about Amber. I want to take the opportunity up to ask whatever the hell I want, but I don't think it's in her best interests right now. I bite down my irritation at myself at letting this pass me by. I wish I could just ignore the impact on her and do what I want, find out what I want, but... oh, but that wouldn't be me, would it? So I'll just look out for this sad little thing and try to make her feel better.

"I don't think you're an idiot. You seem smart, if a bit... um..."

She lifts her eyebrows. "A bit what?"

She seems a bit childish in a way. I don't really want to say that to her though, I don't think she'll take it well. "A bit... silly?"

She snorts. "It was always a family joke. I'm smart, just I have no common sense. Give me an IQ test and I'll ace it. Then I'll probably get lost trying to leave the room. Amber... uh, wasn't so academically gifted, but she was sensible. Apparently combined we'd make an absolute genius. Or at least a passable imitation of a responsible adult."

I grin. “What are your hobbies?”

“Huh?”

“Look, let’s just talk like normal people, not all this omega crap, alright? What do you like doing?”

She gives me a filthy grin, clearly planning to say something sexual. I frown at her until she stops and gives me a sulky look. “I like sailing. And diving. And I play the cello.”

“The cello?”

“Yeah, I like a big instrument between my-“

I groan and she gives me an apologetic grin. “Sorry. I guess I shouldn’t make the water sports joke either?”

Oh God. I’ve found The Todd in female form. And have my arm around the horny little creep.

\- - - - -

I had a surprisingly enjoyable evening with Iolite, despite her single-entendres and insistence on constantly being squished against me. She attempted to get me to talk about my hobbies, but by that point I was slightly drunk and terrified I might somehow give myself away (how? By saying my hobbies include Prothrombin Timings and running Liver Panels? But I’m paranoid and I do say stupid things sometimes) so ended up claiming my hobbies were “mopping and tormenting stupid residents with ingenious plans”, which resulted in Iolite staring at me in confusion. She ordered a selection of various cocktails (including appletinis, at my insistence) and attempted to stop me seeing the bill at the end of the night, both of us tipsy.

“Whazza bill?”

“Noes, John, z’my bill, not your’s, g’way.”

I then caught sight of the total and pretended not to have seen it and that I had been convinced by her compelling argument. Omega bars are _expensive_.

Iolite also tried to insist I get a lift back to the apartment with her, but I ordered an Uber (maintaining my five star rating, thank _you_ Doctor Cox) and shoved her into the black van that suddenly appeared when she called one of her bodyguards. She made the call with her forehead against a brick wall and giggling to herself softly, holding my hand and smelling content in my company. It was rather sweet, just having someone apparently be so happy just by my being there.

I like Iolite, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t want her to know where I live. I’ve no idea how much I genuinely like her and how much it’s the pheromones (and okay, yes, she’s right, being in the company of another dominant omega does seem to make me feel more relaxed and happier, despite how stupid that seems). And liking her doesn’t mean I trust her and I’m certainly not going to give her any way of figuring I’m out a doctor, let alone the doctor that treated her sister. And failed to save her.

Also, Turk and Carla might have noticed me appearing in an expensive van and wondered what the hell was going on. I’ve no idea what they could extrapolate from that, probably not that I’m a secret omega but possibly that I’m caught up in some mafia warfare or something. So Uber is better.

I’m sprawled on my bed, still pleasantly drunk. My cell chimes with a WhatsApp message.

_Iolite: I love HUGO._

I smirk.

_Me: No. Hugo is mine._

_Iolite: Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo._

_Me: Go to bed, you drunken embarrassment._

_Iolite: K_

She then sends me a photo she took in the club of me, clearly not actually doing what I told her. It’s actually a pretty good photo, I look unusually chill in it, relaxed and smiling at the camera.

I roll onto my stomach and exit out of the conversation with Iolite, opening the one underneath and biting my lip.

_Me: Hey. You still okay for me to come over tomorrow evening?_

_Dr C: Yeah Newbie, I’m hardly going to delay it because I want to catch up on that absolutely gripping goshdarn exciting Netflix series everyone’s just so very elated about. Particularly after what happened before. You know it’s okay, you moron._

_Me: Okay, Dr Snappy. Just checking._

_Dr C: Dr Snappy? Seriously?_

_Me: Dr Ranty?_

_Dr C: Thin ice, Newberoo. What’s made you so sassy?_

_Me: Dr Angry?_

_Dr C: I will be soon if you keep sending this shit to me when I’m trying to watch hockey, Newbie._

_Me: You don’t have to answer._

_Dr C: I can’t let you win this war of words, Natasha, you know that. Don’t ignore my question anyway, why are you being so sassy tonight?_

_Me: Spent an evening with Hugo. Put me in a good mood._

_Dr C: ?_

I giggle and put my cell on charge, yawning and pillowing my head on my arms, sliding asleep.

\- - - - -

I’m jerked awake from a dream of beautiful writhing omegas in darkened rooms with smoky glowing eyes by my cell chiming again. I glance over at it to see that it’s 3am and that I’ve just received another WhatsApp message.

_Dr C: Who the fuck is Hugo?_

I send him a link to a WikiCocktails page and roll over, falling back into a peaceful sleep.

\- - - - -

Two weeks after his first shot after the heat clinic, Newbie presents himself at my apartment. This time he’s brought me a decanter. I stare at it blankly.

“What’s that, Newb?”

He looks down it. “Er. A decanter.”

I continue staring at it. “You realize that I don’t actually have an alcohol problem, right?”

He lifts his eyebrows at me and I pull a face at him. “Being dependent isn’t a _problem_ , Newbie.”

“Uh huh.”

“You’re the one who was drunkenly bothering me with shit about cocktails last night. Anyway, why do you keep bringing me random scotch paraphernalia?”

He shrugs. “You’re helping me out. I dunno, I feel like I should.”

He’s looking slightly confused by the whole thing himself, blinking at the box in his hands. It’s actually kinda nice, it has a stag’s head on the stopper and matching glasses with carved stags on. I sigh and take it from him before inviting him in, putting it next to the glasses he brought me last time on my otherwise empty sideboard. I’ve been using those glasses an awful lot, I’m already pretty attached to them.

I don't have a problem. I'm not reliant on alcohol. Or on Newbie. Or Newbie interactions. Or whatever. I'm _fine_.

“How’ve you been?” I ask him, looking back to find him sitting on the couch and prepping his shot. He pulls a face, mirroring my earlier action at him.

“Can we… I dunno, sometimes _not_ talk about all this stuff?”

“You’re here for me to check on you. And then inject that shit into you. What, you want to have some small talk first?”

He gives me a tired look. “I just feel like every damn conversation we have is about this. I used to never have to think about it and now… now I feel like every waking thought is about it. It’s exhausting.”

I sit next to him on the couch and frown at him. “Don’t think I don’t notice you changing the subject, you little weasel.”

He gives me a grumpy look. “I’m not a weasel.”

“No, you’re a rat bastard. Or possibly a little trash raccoon.”

He looks confused. “A what?”

“You eat trash, Newbie. What the hell were you having for lunch today?”

“A burrito.”

“Burrito wasn’t on the menu today.”

“Yeah, but it was _yesterday_ …”

“So… you were eating a day old burrito and you claim you aren’t a scavenging mammal?”

“Why are you checking on what I’m eating?”

“Anyway, don’t think I didn’t notice you changing the subject,” I snap at him, changing the subject. “How are you feeling? Have there been any negative side effects?”

“Not… not like before.”

I glare at him. “What does that mean, Newbie?”

“Well… I mean, I seem to be staying beta and not ‘leaking’. I’ve felt a bit… a bit weird, but nothing like before. I think it’s just my hormones settling down or whatever.”

He looks embarrassed, presumably whatever effects his hormones have had on him have been awkward. I love anything that embarrasses him, but suspect he’ll just get pissy if I ask for details. He’s right about it seeming to work though; I’ve been hyper-vigilant around checking how he smells at all times, switching shifts yet again to try and match up to his so I can warn him if I get even a hint of pomegranate. I nearly set off a false alarm the other day when Carla apparently used his body wash, twitching and nearly panicking until I realized what had happened.

“Alright Tessa, turn your head.”

He looks worried and I can’t blame him. I’m worried too, still remembering him nearly having a seizure from this damn stuff. I try to be reassuring.

“Look, it worked fine last time, there’s no reason to think there’ll be a problem, nn’kay?”

He nods and turns his head, exposing his throat. I stroke down his neck and then rest my hand on his shoulder, brushing a thumb over his clavicle a couple times, pretending for both of us that it’s to keep the skin taught and not anything to do with comforting either of us.

But it seems solid. After I put that bastard enormous needle into his skin there’s no bad reaction, no fitting or fainting or anything. Just both of us nervously waiting for something terrible to happen and… nothing. Anticlimactic.

He gives me a relieved grin afterwards and I return it.

“See? Nothing to be concerned about, Newbie.”

“I guess. Looks like the heat clinic idea actually worked, huh?”

“Oh, that reminds me. Cohen sent a report from your stay, give me a second and I’ll show it to you.”

I retrieve my laptop and sit on the couch next to him. The dip this causes makes him lose his balance and catch himself so he doesn't pitch into me. I frown at him.

“You sure you’re okay, Paula? You looked disoriented then.”

“Yeah, but it’s always done that. I’m just a bit dizzy, it’s nothing to worry about, it’ll go away after an hour or so.”

I open my emails and find Cohen’s message amongst a load of trash advertisements, Newbie making some comment about me needing to set some rules for my junk email folder and me absently telling him to shut up. I open the message from Cohen and try to quickly click on the attachment. Newbie, being the nosy little bastard he is, apparently reads the email before I have the chance to hurriedly open the report.

“The blood test showed you were a positive match for what?”

“None of your business. Stop reading personal emails, Tabitha.”

“You always look at what I’m reading on my iPad. Why do you get privacy and not me?”

“I just do, Newbie. Anyway, read the damn report and stop prying.”

After he’s gone I consider what he said about us never talking about anything other than the whole ‘omega situation’. I frown. But that’s pretty much my entire excuse for engaging with him, I don’t have much reason to speak about anything with him other than that and work. It’s not exactly like we have any shared interests other than trying to stop him being found out and stopping other people from dying.

I could try to discuss stuff with him without mentioning the dreaded ‘o’ word though, I guess. Not that I ever refer to him being omega in messages, the twitchy little bastard would probably have a breakdown if I did. I pull my cell out, slumped on the couch and drinking scotch, pulling up my WhatsApp conversation with him. His profile photo is of him and Gandhi doing their ridiculous ‘giant doctor’ bullshit. He’s an utter moron.

_Me: Hey. You get home ok?_

He doesn’t immediately reply and so I pick up the laptop from where he left it and start researching alternative omega inhibitors. I don’t think there’s any concern about his ‘hormones settling down’ (and what does that mean, exactly? Was that Newbie code for saying he’d been horny?), but it’s worth checking, the little bastard hasn’t been to a real doctor for thirteen years and the shit he’s on could be completely defunct by now.

My cell bleeps and I pick it up.

_Annoying little bastard: Yeah, home now. T &C on shift so have apartment to self! _ _😊_

I absently change his name in my contacts before replying.

_Me: So you’ve got dominion over that depressing hovel? What will you do with all the power, Newbie?_

_Little Trash Raccoon: Dunno. Command Rowdy to do my bidding?_

_Me: What will that achieve, exactly?_

_Little Trash Raccoon: Me getting ignored by my dog._

_Me: Well, then the dead dog can join the rest of humanity in not taking you seriously. Seems apt._

_Little Trash Raccoon: Ha ha. Why are you tormenting me over my cell, is the daily abuse not enough for you any more?_

_Me: You’re the one who wanted to not talk about ‘the other subject’ all the time, Newb._

_Little Trash Raccoon: Oh, so I brought this on myself?_

_Me: You know it, Debbie._

_Little Trash Raccoon: Awesome. Stop gaslighting me, Dr C._

I smirk and turn back to the laptop to continue my research. A minute later I’m distracted by my cell bleeping again and I pick it up.

_Little Trash Raccoon: Want to get a coffee tomorrow?_

I frown, noticing that his profile picture has mysteriously changed to a photo of him grinning at the camera in some bar somewhere, an appletini by his elbow. It’s not cute, not at all, not even if he actually looks pretty relaxed and happy and it’s clearly been taken recently, his hair and skin exhibiting their more recent ‘hella Wella’ quality (oh God, he’s started me saying that). I type _Why?_ before deleting it. Then I frown and type various iterations of ‘why’, none of which seem right to send. My cell vibrates again as I glare at it, pissed off at my inability to send anything back.

_Little Trash Raccoon: Oh God, you’re been ‘typing’ for about five minutes, are you writing a super long rant at me?_

_Me: No, I was trying to find the ‘laughing until I’m physically sick’ emoji. Does that exist?_

_Little Trash Raccoon: ROFP?_

_Me: Pardon?_

_Little Trash Raccoon: Rolling On Floor Puking._

_Me: Classy as ever, Stephanie._

_Little Trash Raccoon: Is that a ‘no’ then?_

I hesitate. It _should_ be a no, I probably shouldn’t have even engaged in this ridiculous chatter with him, I’ve been grinning like an utter moron for the last ten minutes or so as I’ve been messaging him, a stupid warm sensation in my stomach that I’m blaming on the scotch. I grimace and then sigh. What harm can it do? It’s probably good, actually, he’ll likely just annoy me and I’ll stop wanting to speak to him outside of work and his medical requirements. He messages again as I consider it.

_Little Trash Raccoon: I’ll buy? And can be away from SH so you don’t physically combust with embarrassment at being seen with me?_

_Me: Sure. 1100?_

_Little Trash Raccoon: Yeah, Starbucks on Fifth_ _😊_

It’s the damn scotch that’s creating that stupid warm sensation in stomach, it _definitely_ is.

\- - - - -

I’m early.

Like, fifteen minutes early. But this is fine, he probably won’t realize that I got here so early and even if he does he’ll just think it’s because I’m trying to trap him into being my mentor.

I mean, I _was_ an hour early. But I went to Barnes and Noble which is essentially a time machine that can eat all my free time as I browse and inhale that papery booky smell. I picked up various editions from the new releases and classical sections, then reluctantly put them back. They're not expensive, just I can't really justify it. Not when I owe Doctor Cox for the heat clinic still.

Not that my being early makes much difference, I’ve been in this queue for about five minutes anyway, I’ll probably get to the counter at 1100 when I was supposed to show up. I’ll just claim that there wasn’t a line when I arrived.

I’m also frowning at the board, trying to figure out what a ‘Perry Cox special’ might be in a place where the coffee doesn’t constantly stay tepid on a coffee pot warmer and slowly become more and more like treacle and mud. I still haven’t figured this out when I get to the front of the line and the barrister greets me with a wide smile. She’s a pretty beta and I grin back at her, registering bleakly that she’s just my type for a completely pointless, meaningless relationship.

“Hi! What can I get for you?”

My grin gets wider and I rub the back of my neck awkwardly. I’m well aware I’m being utterly manipulative, playing up the ‘sweet awkward guy’ vibes I have naturally. This is an omega thing as well, not that anyone picks it up, I’m basically causing everyone around me to relax by using my ‘under the radar omega charm’, a more subtle version of what Iolite did the other night at the beta bartender. It’s… harmless really, but I didn’t even realize I did the same thing until I saw her doing that and had that pretty unpleasant reality check that I still act quite omega sometimes, just everyone else (including myself) doesn’t actually realize it.

I check her name tag. “Hi Demi! Sorry, I’m meeting a friend here and he… er, well, he’s kinda old fashioned about coffee. He always says he just ‘wants a normal coffee, JD, not a f-freaking Americano topped up with hot water’”. Oops, I nearly said fuck at her. “Do you do filter coffees for people like that?”

Like he’d actually call me JD.

“Sure, I’m guessing I shouldn’t ask if he wants to try our house special blend?”

I shake my head rapidly rolling my eyes and she beams at me. “And what would you like?”

“Could I try a grande Caramel Cloud Macchiato please?” I have no idea what that is, but it has caramel in it so I want it.

“Sure! Anything else?”

She proffers at the various up-sells that are on the counter in front of her. I usually ignore them, but notice some weird little sticks with chocolate squares on the end. I mainly notice them because one has minimallows, to be honest.

“What are those?”

“Oh, hot chocolate stirrers. They’re good, you heat milk up and then stir them in the mug and get a fun drink.”

_A fun drink? Seriously?_

I bite down the unkind thought – Demi seems nice and I need to stop being so horribly cynical all the time. I notice one of the stirrers has a little pipette thing full of scotch attached to the block of chocolate and frown at it. It’s advertised as a bourbon hot chocolate stirrer and I pick it up, adding another couple dollars to the bill. After I’ve paid I go wait at the counter before Demi drops off both drinks with me and I discover my cloud thing appears to be a chilled coffee in a plastic container that’s got foam practically overflowing out of the sealed lid. Demi is shoving it into a cardboard cup holder, which is weird since they’re usually to stop you from scalding yourself. She beams at me again and tells me she hopes I have a nice time with my friend.

That’s a very… optimistic thought.

I go snag a table and put the filter coffee and the bourbon stirrer across from me. When I pull the Machy-cloudy-thing out of the holder I discover that Demi has written her number on the cardboard sleeve and blush, shoving it into my pocket quickly. I don't want Doctor Cox seeing that. Because... uh, because he'll torment me, obviously. It's tempting to message her, but I'm not going to. I have to stop messing with people, it's not fair, I'll throw the cup holder into the trash to make sure I don't renege on my resolution. I'll do it away from here though, so I don't hurt Demi's feelings. Maybe she'll just think I lost her number? I then attempt to get my straw into the sealed drink, but every time I try to flip open the little plastic tab on the lid it threatens to dramatically overflow, like Mount Saint Helens. I abort my first attempt when a warning dribble of foam ends up over my thumb, like sticky lava.

I see Doctor Cox enter the coffee shop out of the corner of my eye and wave at him. He grimaces and then walks over, giving me a weird look when I lick the sticky foaming mess off my thumb.

“What are you doing there, Courtney?”

I point at my drink. “It’s not cooperating with the straw.”

He grimaces again and slumps into the seat opposite me, taking the filter coffee without any expression of thanks or even an indication of gratitude. He takes a swig and then glances at the stirrer.

“What’s this thing? Some freebie?”

“Uh, yeah, something like that.”

He picks it up and examines it in it’s little shrink wrapped package. “It’s got a price tag, Newbie.”

“Well, it’s a freebie for you?”

He’s still looking at it, bemused. “What do I do with it?”

“You put it in hot milk, apparently.”

I try to gently prize the tab open and the foam drools out again alarmingly, so I quickly stop and abandon it for now.

“And what the hell’s that? Apart from making a mess on the table?”

“Not a Perry Cox special. Don’t worry, I didn’t get anything foamy for you.”

He looks at Foamy McFoamFace with some misgiving and then up at me.

“So, any particular reason you wanted to do this? Or did you just want something new to obsess and daydream over?”

I shrug. “I dunno. Like I said before, I’m just sick of talking about the whole ‘situation’. I wanted to forget about it. Not talk about it, y’know? Act like normal people.”

He shrugs back. “Why not go have mediocre coffee with Gandhi then? Or Barbie? Or Carla?”

I snort. “This is better than what we get at Sacred Heart.” I nearly ask him if he’s jealous, his tone sounding slightly sulky when he was basically asking why I didn’t hang with my friends. I suspect that would be pushing him too far and he’d just trash the Starbucks and roar at Demi for writing “JD” on his cardboard cup, something I’ve noticed him glancing at a couple times.

He gives me a level look and I sigh. “Maybe because they don’t _know_? Maybe because I want to think that… that you don’t think of me like that? Think of me _differently_. I don’t _want_ you to think of me like that.”

He rolls his eyes. “Seriously, Newbie, why does this bother you so much?”

“Because it just does. It’s hard to explain to someone like you…”

“Well, how’s about you try, Patricia? Instead of being so insanely frustrating?”

I scrub my hand over my eyes briefly. “Because people changed when I presented, alright? It’s different for you guys, if anything people end up thinking better of you somehow.”

He lifts his eyebrows. “I did _tell_ you about how my mother reacted, Newb.”

“Yeah, sorry, I wasn’t trying to be insensitive about that. Just… look, I had a group of friends at high school. We weren’t the closest or anything, but we got on well. And then… well, then overnight I suddenly went to feeling like nobody wanted me around. Not just not wanting me around, but some of them actively telling me to get lost.”

He gives me a sympathetic look and I shrug again, feeling awkward. “It coulda been a lot worse, don’t get me wrong. I think I actually got treated pretty well, all things considered-"

"What the hell does that mean, Newbie?"

He looks pissed and I sigh. "Oh, I don't know. I've heard about people like me being attacked in high schools when we insisted on staying. No one was violent or anything."

"And that's being 'treated pretty well', is it?"

"Er. Yeah, it is, actually. Compared to what could have happened. Anyway, that whole thing has made me scared about people changing how they think about me. Just because they find out something that… that to me really _doesn’t_ define me. Does that make sense?”

He gives me a measured look, then sighs. “Look, Newbie, you know I’m straight with you.”

“Yup. Blunt to the point of pain.”

He gives me a twisted grin. “Yeah, exactly. So when I say I really don’t give a shit about you being an-“ I widen my eyes at him, glancing around to check no one’s within earshot. He rolls his eyes. “Fine, when I say I really don’t give a shit about your _chronic condition_ then you know I mean it. Right? It doesn’t change my perception of you at all. I feel _exactly_ the same about you as I did before.”

There’s an odd, loaded expression on his face as he says this that tells me that he’s not bullshitting and that if I ask him if he is then he will actually end me. It somehow feels like he’s trying to say something else as well, but I don’t really know what. I lift my eyebrows.

“So, you find me exactly as annoying and clingy and unbearable as before?”

“Sure, Newb.”

“Even though… um, even though the pheromones-“

“Avril, the pheromones affect me, but don’t change my feelings, alright?”

I look at him blankly. I don’t really understand what that means at all, but just nod as I think if I don’t then he might punch me.

“Great. Glad we got that cleared up. And since you’re apparently allowing talk about this stuff today then are you alright, Newb? No weird side effects?”

“Like I said… hormonal stuff. Nothing like before, I think it’s just settling back down.”

I don’t tell him about the side effects, not sure they’re worth raising. And he seems stressed out enough as it is, constantly around like some angry guard dog. I bet he’s so pissed off that he’s having to babysit me, he hates it when it’s in support of medical treatment for someone. Having to do it to check I don’t crash off the inhibitors must be incredibly frustrating for him.

I tug at the lid again and flinch when the drink threatens to Vesuvius at me and glance back up at him, wondering if I should deploy the ‘what are your hobbies’ question I asked Iolite or whether he’ll just respond with something derogatory about destroying residents and drinking scotch. Anyway, why would I ask him about his hobbies? Although… although…

“Uh, Doctor Cox?”

He looks back at me suspiciously, halfway through a swig of his coffee. “Yeah, Newbie?”

“Um. I kinda feel like I tell you everything I like-“

“Yes, Newbie. You do. Eh-he- _heverything_ that you like. In a constant stream. It’s like you have no goddamn internal narrative. I know that you like damn unicorns, your bald best friend, journals, appletinis, bracelets, pancakes, stuffed dead dogs-“

“Yes, alright-“

“And that’s with me not even listening. In fact, actively trying _nahwt_ to listen.”

“Yeah, I know. Anyway, the point I was trying to make was that I know – in huge detail – everything that you hate. Including me, Hugh Jackman, optimists, dermatologists, me, Hugh Jackman, feelings, religion, me, Hugh Jackman, people trying to get you to finish their sentences, republicans, me, Hugh Jackman, private practice, vanity plates, me, Hugh Jackman, people who say ‘hump day’, Sandra Bullock movies, me and _finally_ Hugh Jackman.”

I’m panting and he’s lifted his eyebrows, looking impressed. I draw some more oxygen into my lungs: “Also, Elliot, omegas affecting your judgement, other alphas, betas for not being affected by all this shit, Kelso, Turk, Janitor, pretty much everyone else in Sacred Heart. Me. Hugh Jackman. You get the picture. By the way, how do you _do_ this without pausing for breath? Do you have some sort of enormous lung capacity? You must be one hell of a diver. Or clarinet player.”

He grins at me, looking genuinely amused. “Pretty much. By the way Newbie, did you just put yourself up there with _Hugh Jackman_? That’s a pretty ballsy move from you, Tandy.”

“Yeah, I know. I figure I must rate for incessant annoyance rather than intensity. Anyway, my point is that I have no idea what you actually like. Other than… y’know, rants. And scotch. And… sports, I guess?”

“Why does it matter, Newbie?”

I shrug. “I dunno. Just curious, I guess.”

He pulls a face at me. “The normal stuff, I guess? The gym. Music. Movies. Hiking.”

“Let me guess, action movies and rock music?”

He frowns at me. “Well, yeah.”

“Anything _not_ stereotypically alpha? Go on, surprise me.”

He grimaces. “Well, sorry there Newb. Maybe I’m just a stereotype?”

I scoff and he lifts his eyebrows. I know this isn’t going anywhere, but I _know_ he isn’t just like that. I bet he’s got some embarrassing music tastes. I need to pretend to faint when he next gives me a shot so I can go through his CD and DVD collections. I’m relatively certain that he won’t stream.

To my surprise, he sighs. “Fine, Leigh. I enjoy reading, I like the American classics if you must know. ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’, that kind of thing.”

I beam at him and he somehow looks even more annoyed. “Stop that, Newbie.”

“What?”

“That. You look delighted. Me admitting I know who Boo Radley is shouldn’t make any difference to how you see me.”

I fiddle with he lid again before deciding to just ignore it.

“I know… it’s just that alphas aren’t supposed to like reading, right? Neither are omegas.” I frown at that. “Does that just mean only betas are supposed to enjoy reading?”

“I’ve no idea, Rachel. I tried not to pay attention to all that shit.”

I smirk. “Yeah, I bet you did.”

“What? Just because I can bench over two-fifty pounds doesn’t mean I don’t have a brain. Never understood why one should negate the other.”

Is that an impressive amount to bench? I have no idea, so try to look vaguely impressed before I roll my eyes.

“Fine for you, Big Top. I’m not expected to be able to bench or give intelligent conversation.”

_Big Top? Where did that come from? Did I just call him a circus tent or have I been spending too much time around Iolite and her single-entendres?_

“Probably a blessing for you, Newb.”

“Yeah, but I don’t understand anything about… that kind of stuff either. I’m supposed to like fashion and… food and pretty things. I really _don’t_.”

“You have some tendencies that-“

“Yeah, I know _that_. Like I said, I don’t try to hide them. Just… I don’t like being dictated to about what I should and shouldn’t like, y’know? I’m just me.”

He’s staring at me with a weird expression on his face, looking oddly blended between impressed and disbelieving. After a second he seems to pull himself together and grins at me.

“What?”

“Well, Newb. There was me thinking we had nothing in common. Apparently we’re both equally stubborn about not doing what we’re told we should.”

I grin back at him awkwardly. The eye contact feels a bit too intense and I so I try to avoid it by looking back down at my drink and trying to gently lever the tab open.

“Stop being so damn tentative with it Newbie, just pull the thing open. Like ripping off a band aid.”

“ _Fine_ ,” I snap back at him, sharply jerking the tab open. Unfortunately this appears to result in half of the foamy drink exploding out of the plastic cup over me, him and the table we’re sat at. I flinch, my eyes screwed up, before opening one tentatively and looking over at his furious, foam-covered face. “Happy now?”

“Ecstatic, Newbie.”

\- - - - -

The second lot of two weeks is slightly less fraught, with both of us considerably more relaxed, although I’m still checking and still overly attentive. And yes, I used the goddamn hot chocolate stirrer. In the damn cardboard cup with “JD” scrawled on it, which I hung onto, claiming it still had some coffee left in it, despite finishing the damn thing in the coffee shop. It’s just… oh, I don’t know, some weird reminder of him covered in foam and how ridiculous he looked and the way he briefly looked scared I was going to quite dramatically murder him for following my instructions and covering us both in sticky foam. Seeing him terrified was funny. That’s _all_.

I want to be in the same room as him at all times because I’m worried about him giving the game away. Obviously. And if my gaze lingers over his eyes and his mouth and if I think about him excessively, it’s because of that. My concern is completely normal and needs no further analysis. And I definitely don’t think about him licking that creamy white foam off his thumb as I walked into the Starbucks, how pink and soft and inviting that tongue looked. It certainly didn’t briefly make me feel like I was experiencing some medium category earthquake.

Anyway, my point is that I’m not fixated on him or fantasizing about anything or even paying him that much attention. He's fine on the run up to the third shot I give him, still no evidence of pheromone 'leakage' and him still appearing beta as he appears at my door clutching a fancy copy of "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" and grinning awkwardly at me as I regret telling him about that interest. Which is why the day after I don’t immediately pick up on it. We’re on rounds and his watch bleeps, reminding him to take a pill. I’m checking on a coma patient, monitoring Mr O’Shea’s vitals and looking at when he was last turned to reduce the likelihood of bed sores when my thoughts are interrupted by the unmistakeable sound of someone trying to quietly throw up. I narrow my eyes.

“Newbie, has the drunk from room 242 escaped the night nurse again?”

When he doesn’t reply I turn around and freeze, seeing him clutching what was hopefully previously an unused bedpan and trying to stop himself from retching again.

“Shit,” I hurry over to him and he makes a miserable noise at the back of his throat, turning away from me and choking again, it reminding me horribly of him in the field over a month ago, the full body, furious spasms as his system tries desperately to purge itself.

I stroke his back gently and he makes a worried, frightened noise.

“It’s probably fine, JD,” I murmur to him. “You likely just ate something bad, the cafeteria here sucks and you are a little trash raccoon, after all.”

I already know that’s bullshit though, because I can already start to smell pomegranates, even over the acrid vomit scent. And I’m pretty sure he knows it too, slumping defeatedly onto his knees and whining softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those readers who've read my previous works will know I have a soft spot for writing JD and Doctor Cox messaging one another. I indulged a bit in this chapter. It made me happy. (Also, yes, JD changes his profile picture to the one Iolite sent him when talking to Doctor Cox. I'm sure it was completely chance and not him putting up a picture he admits he thinks he looks good in.)
> 
> Also, I wasn't exactly subtle with JD worrying Iolite might think it was a date (twice), but not ever even considering it as a bad thing that Doctor Cox would maybe take it that way, was I? Idiots...
> 
> I'm not sponsored by Starbucks (nor am I overly bothered by their coffee, but I am obsessed with their mugs). I just wanted somewhere for them to go to and also I bought a caramel cloud macchiato the other day. It did actually explode over me, although not in the volume described in this. It made me think of the exploding soda scene in the Porsche and then this happened... Also, bourbon stirrers exist, although I don't think Starbucks have ever sold one. They do indeed make a fun drink.
> 
> Also, yeah. Shit. I feel I should add a "JD vomiting" tag on this fic. And you thought I was being nice to them this chapter, didn't you?


	12. 12. Our Diagnostics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A comment on slow-burnage: I know, it's taking absolutely ages for the two of them to really do anything. There's pretty good reason for this, caused by both of them being obtuse and scared (not that Cox would admit the latter). Stuff will pick up relatively soon around this, but this story does sort of need both of them to get into the right places for this, so is taking time. Also, I've always found reading (and writing!) the build up more satisfying in an odd way - it's always rather cute once they've gotten together, but I do enjoy a bit of simmering sexual tension. Particularly when it simmers so hard it eventually burns the kitchen down, which is essentially the aim with this...
> 
> This chapter backtracks *very* slightly from the ending of the last - only about 5 minutes before, just switching back to JD's POV. It catches up pretty quick and is mainly just showing JD's mindset (spoiler alert: horny and distracted).

**My Unorthodox Treatment**

**by RumCove**

**Our Diagnostics**

Disclaimer: Scrubs original characters belong to Bill Lawrence and NBC/ABC/Doozer Productions etc. Basically, not owned by me. I own the original characters in this work.

The day after my shot I’m feeling completely normal again. Even the weird side effects don’t seem to be bothering me today and I’m almost starting to relax. Maybe this whole heat thing was worth it?

I grimace. I still owe Doctor Cox for the clinic. Shit. I glance over at him, leaning against the nurses’ station next to me and reading through the medical files for the patients we have on our rounds today. He’s frowning slightly as he reads, a slight crease in his forehead as he does so, his chin resting on his open palm, his elbow propped up on the counter.

I try to quietly inhale his pine forest scent and shiver softly. I’m briefly, sharply aroused and look away quickly, blinking down at my charts and trying not to breathe too deeply to filter out the pheromones. For God’s sake, he doesn’t even look that sexy or anything, omega boner. He’s just reading some files.

I peek quickly over at him. No, there’s nothing very sexy about him. Nothing at all. He’s frowning, he looks tired and slightly pissed off. He’s wearing a worn T shirt and scrubs pants, his white coat open, one of his legs slightly bent as he leans against the station. His pants are slightly too short to do this move, I can see part of his ankle and the top of a tube sock on his bent leg. It’s not sexy. Not sexy at all.

My eyes linger over the way his coat is stretched over his broad shoulders and draped over his ass. His hair’s getting quite long, the curls brushing the collar of his coat and tangling down in front of his eyes.

No, not sexy. Stop it.

He apparently feels my gaze on him and looks over at me. I quickly look away and back down at my charts, reading and rereading the same line over and over again without it apparently permeating into my brain.

“You alright there, Newbie?”

I nod, trying not to obviously blush at being caught out staring at him.

“Only you appear to have been gazing rapturously at me, Michelle. Have I got something on my face?”

_I want to be on your face._

Oh my God, shut _up_ omega boner.

“Uh. No. I… er… uh, I can see your socks.”

I stay staring at my charts and I hear (and smell, agh, stop smelling him dammit) him coming over.

“What’s wrong?”

I shiver again at his soft tone, pitched to not carry to anyone else.

“Nothing.”

My skin is prickling, all the fine hairs on my neck standing on end at his proximity.

“You sure, Newb?”

Shit, that same soft (almost _caring_ ) tone. I try not to shiver, which just seems to result in me getting goose bumps instead and glance up into his concerned face. His blue eyes are looking directly into mine and I try to smile. From his expression I didn’t do it very convincingly.

“Yeah,” I murmur. “I was just thinking that I need to pay you back.”

He rolls his eyes and gently cuffs the back of my head. “Stop worrying about shit like that. C’mon. We need to go check on Mr O’Shea and see if he’s still a vegetable.”

I trail after him, noticing Carla giving me a quizzical look. I shrug at her and then hurry after him. She’s likely confused that he’s being as attentive as he is. He usually doesn’t read his patient files at the nurses’ station, that’s where I hang out with Carla, Turk and Elliot. He generally reads them wherever I’m not physically located, often loudly commenting about how relieved he is to be away from me. Usually in a voice that carries over the entire hospital floor. But that was before he found out all of this omega shit and now he usually stays within the same room as me, presumably to check on my pheromones and to drag me off somewhere if he can smell anything concerning.

I sigh and then realize I’ve been worrying whilst walking after him, staring at his ass and continuing to scent him. I frown at myself. Why am I being so damn horny right now?

We go into Mr O’Shea’s room and my watch bleeps at me. Doctor Cox glances back at me as I pull the pill bottle out of my pocket and take one. He lifts his eyebrows at me and I give him a reassuring smile. He turns back to Mr O’Shea and I frown. The pill seemed to go down fine, but I’m suddenly feeling dizzy. It actually feels… shit, it feels like I did just before I threw the pill up before the heat clinic. I’m suddenly hot and my stomach’s starting to spasm and… and, oh shit, shit shit…

I grab a nearby empty bedpan and try desperately to quietly vomit into it.

Oh God, why is this happening? Why is this happening _again_? I did what I needed, I had a heat, I _fixed_ this, _why the hell is this happening again_? Because I know what this is. And clearly those side effects weren’t side effects, it was the inhibitors still not sitting quite right.

“Newbie, has the drunk from room 242 escaped the night nurse again?”

I open my mouth to reply and then clamp it shut quickly and swallow rapidly, feeling bile rising in my throat. I hear him turn and then hurry over, muttering “shit” to himself. God, I don’t want him to see me like this. He already thinks I’m tragic and annoying, I don’t want him to watch me puke as well. I turn away from him to try to block his view of what I'm doing, already starting to retch again, my body violently trying to expel the pill I just took.

I can feel his hand on my back and he quietly says “It’s probably fine, JD. You likely just ate something bad, the cafeteria here sucks and you are a little trash raccoon, after all.”

Even the (sort of) sweet nickname doesn't make me feel in any way better. I slide down onto my knees and choke to myself. That’s bullshit, he knows that’s bullshit. I screw my eyes shut and shake my head.

“It’s happening again, isn’t it?”

God, I can hear the panic in my voice, I sound pathetic. He crouches down next to me, grasping my chin and turning my face to his. I open my eyes to look at him balefully.

“Your eyes still look beta, Newbie.”

I try to twist back away from him, horribly conscious of the intense eye contact and that I must smell like vomit. He holds me firmly in place, staring into my eyes, something about his expression making me freeze and crouch down slightly more on the floor, an automatic omega submission response. I'm hoping it's happening because a dominant alpha is trying to reassure me and I'm frightened. But God knows now, the omega part of me is now clearly completely at the driving wheel and has ejected my brain. Ejected _me_.

“You’re going to be fine, alright? Stay calm. Yes, the inhibitors have failed again, but we’ve got some time before they’ll be totally out of your system, nn’kay? And you’ve been on your heat, so even if the inhibitors completely fail then you’re _not_ going to be in the state you were last time. You’ll just be like you were after the clinic, right? That’s you still being you, still being in control. So _stop panicking_.”

I nod at him quickly and he releases my face, stroking a hand through my hair as he does so. “Atta boy. I’m not going to lie, Newb, you’re starting to release pheromones. So how’s about I get you outta here and we figure this shit out, yeah?”

I stare back at him, wide-eyed. “How’re we gonna do _that_? The hospital’s full of people who think I’m beta, if they catch how I smell then they’ll know I’m not. I can’t let them see me and we’re on the fourth floor, I can hardly climb out the window and wait by the Porsche.”

He looks out of the window into the corridor thoughtfully, his hand on my shoulder. “You wait here Newbie. I’ll lock the door, just sit tight. _Stay_. I just need to go visit Pee Pants.”

I stare at him blankly. “What?”

He’s already out the door and I briefly feel sorry for Doug.

\- - - - -

I’m fueled by angry, worried alpha, which makes me even more foul tempered than usual. Newbie’s crashing fast and he knows it, no matter how much bullshit I told him about staying calm. I need to get him out of here. Like, ten minutes ago.

Fortunately, medical staff here have a sixth sense about how pissed off I am, so everyone’s giving me a wide berth - as a result, I get down to the morgue in record time. Nervous Guy gives me a look of abject horror and I whistle at him. Not strictly necessary since I already had his attention, but I’ve got an image to keep up here.

“Hey there, Princess. I need a ballgown for my special gal, so how about you help me out?”

He stares at me blankly. “I… I’m sorry Doctor Cox, I don’t understand-“

“Just give me a body bag, genius.”

“Oh, sure, Doctor Cox. I’ve got a drawer free if you need it for a patient-“

“I do _nahwt_ think so, Queen of the Damned. I’m not so goddamn irresponsible as to let a patient die on me.”

“So… so what’s it for?”

I cross my arms and give him a Patented Perry _look_ , sending him scurrying off to do my bidding. As he should, the little peon. He quickly reappears, carrying a large black plastic sack. I grab it from him and stalk off, ignoring Carla calling out to me en route back to Mr O’Shea’s room. Newbie has clearly ignored my command to stay where he was, since the bedpan is now mysteriously empty, presumably cleaned out in the adjoining bathroom. I frown at him.

“I told you to stay.”

“I did.”

“Really? Is that why you smell minty-fresh, Rosie?”

He shrugs. “Everything tasted like vomit and it wasn’t like I had much else to do.”

“Yeah, well you do now. Get into this.”

He stares at me. “Oh God, have you decided I’m too much trouble? It’s a bit unfair to make me put myself in my own body bag.”

“Tempting as that is, Peppermint Patty, no. But no one’s going to try to check whether you’re a beta or not if you’re in a damn body bag on a gurney, right?”

“I guess not…” He’s standing up, looking at the bag with misgiving. I can’t say I blame him, it’s a pretty morbid thing to do, but I can’t think of a better option. “Do you reckon it’ll stop the smell of the pheromones?”

“I have no idea, I’m not planning on giving anyone the opportunity to sniff you. Just get into the damn thing.”

I hold it open for him pointedly and he grimaces and clambers into it, hopping around awkwardly to keep his balance. I start to zip it up and he yelps. “If I can’t see then I can’t get onto a gurney.”

“I hate to break this to you, Charlotte, but you can’t walk either. I’m zipping you into this thing and then carrying you to the gurney out in the corridor. It’ll kind of give the game away if one of those morons seeing you doing a little body bag sack race performance.”

He gives me a horrified look. “No, you’re not carrying me again. And don’t you dare zip that-“

I zip it up abruptly. “Shut up, Newbie, and don’t move until I tell you to, alright?”

He’s furiously silent at me and I sigh, hoisting him over my shoulder. Pretty sure he just kicked me when I did that, the pissy little ingrate. In retribution I’m not particularly careful as I sling him onto gurney and hear him grunt slightly as he lands. I start to wheel him towards the elevator, flinching at the squeaking gurney wheel. I’m also incredibly relieved that I didn’t let Newbie start hopping about in the corridor, as Carla has appeared out of nowhere and is honing in on me like some sort of Latino guided missile.

“Hey!”

I look over at her, stopping moving and leaning against the gurney, affecting a bored expression. “Yeah?”

“I was _talking_ to you earlier, why did you ignore me?”

“I didn’t hear you talking to me.”

“No, you were too busy storming through the corridor like you were about to get into a gunfight in some shitty Spaghetti Western.”

I roll my eyes. “Well, I’m re-heally sorry, Carla. What did you want?”

She frowns at me. “Where’s JD?”

Something about her tone bothers me and I sigh, irritated. “Good Lord, Carla, I don’t know, I’m not her mother. That’s you, right?”

“Right, because you’ve been constantly pressurizing him for the last few weeks and snapping at him and stressing him out and _now_ you don’t know where he is?”

I glare at her, pissed off with her attitude. “Tell me Carla, did ya breastfeed her? Just because I want to get the image in my head right here.”

She actually growls at me and I narrow my eyes back at her. She snaps: “You’re a pig.”

“Vary your material, that’s getting old. No, I don’t know where Newbie is, alright? I think his shift’s already ended, he’s skipped off somewhere. Go see if the Janitor’s succeeded in duct-taping him to the air vents, I know that was what he was planning earlier. He asked me to lure him into a cupboard so he could knock him out. It wasn’t disturbing at all.”

She glances down at the body bag. “Who’s that?”

“I don’t know, probably some poor sap your husband’s butchered whilst listening to dreadful hip hop music.”

“You’ve found a body and you’re just wheeling it around?”

I shrug. “It’s a good prop and nobody’ll ask me to do anything.”

“For God’s sake, have some respect, we can check who it is and-“

She’s reaching towards the zip and I lean forward and block her, an unbidden growl rumbling low in my throat. She backs down quickly, wide-eyed and staring at me and I manage to stop the full-blown snarl I can feel trying to form. I’ve never growled at her, it’s practically unheard of for an alpha to growl at an omega for something so trivial, but she was about to see him, she was about to _touch_ him. Anyway, it’s a double standard as far as I’m concerned, she growls at me plenty.

“It’s one of mine, alright? I was trying not to draw attention to it, since I’ve had a pretty good run of luck recently.”

“Oh,” she steps another pace back, still looking at me warily. “Sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah, well…” I shift awkwardly. “Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to do it, been a long day.”

She shrugs. “You’ve been weird recently, you know that, right?”

“Fair enough. I’m just going to go dispose of this and then go home. I need some sleep.”

My shift isn’t supposed to end for another three hours, but Bob can come for me if he wants. Newbie’s was also supposed to end at the same time and I’ve no idea what I can do to cover for that. If no one misses me then I’ll say he was with me.

I’m not happy, obviously. If something happens and anyone dies I know I’ll feel responsible for it, but I can hardly leave Newbie in a body bag in the back of my Porsche for three hours (however tempting that might be when he’s idly standing around and dreaming about butterflies) just in case everyone else is utterly useless. I’ll tell Slawski, I’m pretty sure he’s supposed to go soon and I’ll just get him to cover for me. Bastard’s done it to me plenty.

Carla’s still standing staring at me, her arms crossed and a slight frown on her face. I roll my eyes at her and continue pushing the gurney to the elevator.

\- - - - -

After ruining Slawski’s evening by making him stay in this hellhole for another three hours and getting out to the car lot, I’m just about to congratulate myself when that psychotic caretaker tries to engage me.

“Hey.”

I ignore him, although should have figured out that particular strategy isn’t working today.

“Hey, Angry Doc.”

I glance at him. “What is it, Chewbacca?”

“Did you murder someone?”

I look at the body bag on the gurney that I’ve just lined up next to the Porsche.

“No comment.”

“Fair enough. Have you seen Pipsqueak? I thought we had an agreement and the duct tape’s all ready.”

Giving up on any pretense, I open the Porsche and pull the passenger seat down, hauling Newbie into the back and hearing him say “ouch” to himself quietly.

“We didn’t have an agreement, you told me your disturbing plan and I told you that you were insane.”

“Sounds like an agreement to me.”

I push the passenger seat back into place and frown at him. “He already left.”

“Drat,” he says, sounding like a Scooby Doo villain. I point this out to him and he shrugs one shoulder and then apparently decides to stare at me fixedly for a while.

“You want any taxidermy hints?”

“What?”

He gestures at the body bag in the car and lifts his eyebrows at me. I frown and respond with a quick “Jesus, no.”

I keep an eye on him and back off, getting into the Porsche and turning the ignition, reversing away from the frankly dangerous Janitor and then speeding off.

“Holy Cow, Newbie, what is with everyone today? It’s like the whole damn hospital’s gone crazy.”

“Yeah. You’re very sane, you’re talking to a body bag,” comes the muffled reply. “Are you gonna let me out? It’s really cramped back here.”

“Driving, Newb.”

“But-“

“It would be dangerous,” I say, in a weirdly sing-song voice, apparently joining the rest of the staff in a brief break from sanity.

“If you crash I’m gonna tell the cops you coerced me into this and are taking me home to eat me.”

“Fair enough.”

“All the guys at the prison will call you Hannibal Cox.”

“I can think of worse things they could call me.”

“I didn’t say _what_ I’d say you were planning to eat…”

“Alright Newbie, be a good girl and shut up. Really live your cover, yeah?”

\- - - - -

I park up and lean back, unzipping Newbie from the body bag. He glares at me, looking flushed and disheveled. And – ah.

“Don’t look at me like that, Newbie, I just saved your ass. Your eyes have gone again.”

“Damn. Really?” He sits up and looks into the rear view mirror, frowning. “Shit. That was fast.”

I nod. He looks back at me, worried and dropping his sassy act from earlier. “You only gave me the shot last night, this shouldn’t happen. This didn’t even happen that quick before.”

“Yeah, I know. Let’s just get you inside and figure it out from there. Maybe we can try you on something new.”

He looks unconvinced, but squirms forward to get into the passenger seat, gracelessly elbowing me as he does and then apologizing in a distinctly insincere way. Once we’re inside the apartment he starts pacing nervously and I frown at him. “What’s wrong, Angela?”

“Do you mean apart from the obvious?”

“Well, yeah, the omega thing…”

He stops pacing and covers his eyes with his hand, crossing the other arm in front of his stomach in a defensive, miserable gesture and then lets out a completely uncharacteristic bitter laugh. “Sure, ‘the omega thing’. Also, what the hell am I supposed to do now? I can’t go home, Sasha’s still at Sacred Heart, I’ve not even got a change of clothes. I don’t even know if I can go outside now and if I don’t come up with something to tell Turk and Carla where I am then they’ll look through my bedroom for clues from my mysterious disappearance and they’ll find the inhibitors and then how do I explain _that_ and-“

I cross to him and grab his shoulders, shaking him gently. “Alright, Newbie, calm down and-“

“Calm _down_?!” He stares at me, exasperated. “This is my entire _life_. And I’ve essentially just seen it go down the goddamn toilet, so I’m sorry if I’m not calm enough for you.”

“Look, Gandhi and Carla aren’t going to immediately search your room, right? I assume you occasionally stay out during the night and claim you’ve hooked up with someone when you’re probably at some sort of all night board games marathon or something. They’re not immediately going to start trying to play amateur sleuths.”

“Probably not…”

“Alright, so stop thinking about that tonight. Maybe this is just a fluke and when you try tomorrow-“

He scoffs. “Really, you’re trying that? It _can’t_ be a fluke, it’s been failing too often. There’s something inherently wrong and you know it.”

I sigh. “Would it really be so bad to just be yourself?”

He lifts his eyebrows. When he speaks next, his voice is practically dripping with scorn, sounding so unlike himself I double-take. “I am _being myself_. If you mean would it be so bad to be visibly omega, then the answer is yes and stop being so damn naïve. You know what would happen. I’d lose my job, if not get sued on top of that by Kelso. And people would look at me like… like…”

“Like what, Newbie?”

He gives me a tired look. “I saw how people changed when I presented. Like I was a totally different person. I don’t want to see that again.”

“Don’t you think you should give your friends more credit?”

He sighs and shakes his head. “I’d rather not risk it. Can you let go, please?”

I realize I’m still gripping his shoulders and let go with a muttered apology.

“Maybe I should ask Cohen?” I suggest, trying to figure out if there’s anyone else I know of who I could ask. Newbie shakes his head.

“That wouldn’t make any sense, you told him that you had bought me and wanted the inhibitors out of my system, why would you suddenly want me back on them? Also, he likely won’t know much about them, most doctors like him are pretty anti-inhibitors, he’ll just start listing all the fabled negative side effects of them.”

“Do you know any experts?”

“No… I’ve never needed one before.”

He looks forlornly at nothing for a moment, then back at me. “What are we going to do?”

I really don’t know. But I won’t pretend that I didn’t just get a warm glow at him asking what _we_ were going to do.

\- - - - -

After a few hours it becomes clear that Newbie is completely rejecting the inhibitors. On top of him vomiting the tablets back up at Sacred Heart, he starts to sweat heavily and drink ridiculous amounts of water as his body continues to purge anything affecting his omega system. His pheromones get increasingly strong and he goes rapidly from the light blue glowing eyes to the deep ocean coloring he had after being at the clinic. He also becomes utterly exhausted, collapsing onto the couch and staying there, staring miserably at the ceiling. I’m pretty sure he goes through a couple crying jags when he thinks I’m not watching.

I can’t do anything, which is frustrating. It’s 4am now and he’s suffering and all I’ve been able to do is bring him glasses of water and occasionally try to cool him off with a wet cloth, which he gets irritated by, snapping that he’s not sick.

“No, you’re a junkie detoxing, stop getting pissy with me Newbie.”

Neither of us even consider attempting to dose him with something else. It’s very clear now that could only have negative consequences. And he definitely knows it, staring up at the ceiling lethargically and clearly trying very hard not to cry.

“I’ll have to go back to Ohio…” he says it softly, miserably.

“Why?” I snap back at him, unreasonably irritated by the thought of that.

“Because if the inhibitors aren’t working then I’m supposed to be near my responsible alpha. Supposed to be in the same _household_ , to be specific. Otherwise I'm a public menace, right? We're only allowed autonomy if we're on inhibitors and even then we need to be checked on regularly.”

“We don’t know they’re not working, Newbie, we should try some others or speak to an expert, see if we can figure this shit out.”

I’m sat on the floor next to the couch that Newbie’s sprawled on, not looking at him, having to crush down my alpha's response to hearing him refer to his responsible alpha. Dan isn't his responsible alpha, dammit, Dan's utterly irresponsible. Dan doesn't fucking deserve to call himself that and Newbie sure as shit shouldn't expect any support or protection from him. I hear him sigh.

“Go to bed, Doctor Cox. You must be exhausted.”

“Stop acting so defeated, Alison, it’s pissing me off.”

He laughs sarcastically. “Saying I’m defeated is pretending we ever thought I had a chance of not failing. All this ever was was a delaying tactic, right?”

I growl. “ _No_ , Newbie, it wasn’t. You said it yourself, the inhibitors were working fine for thirteen years. I refuse to believe that you getting a load of omega blood and pheromones in your face combined with a load of angry, horny alphas can have completely thrown your system so much that you’ve gone haywire like this. There’ll be something else and we can figure it out and fix it, nn’kay?”

He’s quiet for a moment. “You think there’s something underlying?”

“Well, that makes more sense than it all being based on that incident in ER, right? I was thinking something might show up in Cohen’s medical report, but you saw that yourself. You’re a perfectly healthy dominant omega. The inhibitors clearly didn’t disagree with you until very recently, didn’t even seem to have an impact on your fertility levels. So there must be something else.”

He rolls over on the couch and looks at me with interest, his beautiful eyes shimmering and glowing in the half-light. I’ve never seen them doing that before and then realize that he’s intrigued, it’s what curiosity looks like on him when he’s not on inhibitors. And, Christ, it’s gorgeous. I stare at him, mesmerized, and my hand apparently moves on it's own accord to gently brush a strand of hair behind his ear. I leave a finger softly stroking behind his ear and for once he doesn't push me off, finally accepting the comforting gesture, gazing back at me with the inquisitive expression and astounding eyes as I carefully pet him, being oddly delicate like I'm scared that if I'm too forceful he'll notice and run off. Like I'm trying to tame a feral cat, although that's not too far from the truth sometimes.

“So it’s a diagnostics exercise?”

“Yeah, exactly. Your favorite, Newbie, and something you happen to be damn good at.”

He grins at me, so to try and keep that mood on him I add: “And something I happen to be damn good at, as it happens.”

He nods and smiles at me and I feel a stab of something low in my gut that makes me feel simultaneously like I’m ten feet tall and also like I’m made of jello.

To try to stop the weird stretched gelatin man sensation I go retrieve a throw that some misguided soul once gave me in an attempt to “humanize” my home and try to drape it over him. He pushes it off immediately.

“Too hot.”

I press a hand to his forehead, frowning at his temperature. He can’t be going into heat, it’s likely his body continuing to try to reject any remaining inhibitor molecules in his system. Also, he’s definitely hotter (literally) as an omega, it may just be his natural warmth.

“Ugh,” he mutters, apparently to himself. “I’m sweating like the Todd at a sexual harassment seminar.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen that particularly car crash thanks to you, Newbie. And he seemed to enjoy himself.”

“Ew.”

“You need anything?”

He knocks my hand off his forehead; I hadn’t even realized I’d left it lingering there. Apparently he's had enough of my touching him. “Nah, but I’ll put the throw under me, otherwise this couch will reek of omega sweat and pheromones if this keeps up.”

He stiffly staggers to his feet and then nearly collapses. I catch him, briefly pulling him flat against me as I nearly lose my grip. He clings back onto me and rests his head against my shoulder, sighing. I notice that he's shaking, fine tremors constantly running through him.

“I’m so sorry…”

He sounds so tired and miserable, so frustrated. I wrap an arm around his waist to keep him upright and use the other to snag the throw from where he kicked it onto the coffee table, chucking it back onto the couch.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for, Carol. Like I said, we just need to view this as an diagnosed disorder. We’ll figure it out and you can’t be blamed for the symptoms.”

I help him back onto the couch and he abruptly wriggles out of his scrubs top. I feel a stab of annoyance at myself that I’ve not offered him anything to change into when he’s clearly uncomfortable.

“Hey, you want a shirt and something to change into? It’ll be too big for you, but that can’t be comfortable.”

He nods gratefully and I go grab a shirt and boxers for him. “Give me a shout if you need anything during the night, yeah?”

“Thanks, Doctor Cox.”

I regret giving him the shirt when I get up in the morning and find him sleeping peacefully on the couch, curled on his side, my shirt swamping him, the too-long shirt cuffs balled in his fists and the tail hanging down to his thighs. It highlights how much slighter and more vulnerable he is than me, although he’s roughly the same height. Despite the logical part of me pointing out that he really _isn’t_ all that much of a delicate flower, the illogical, stupid part of me is already switching to uber-protective alpha mode. He really isn't defenseless either, he could kill an alpha with a well-placed bite if he ever wanted to.

 _Not me though_ , my alpha points out, inordinately pleased by this thought. I growl at myself and go make coffee, sternly telling myself off for acting like a fucking Neanderthal. 

\- - - - -

I wake up to the smell of coffee and feeling _so_ much better than last night. I was dreading waking up in some sweaty, slicky mess of omeganess and am relieved to discover I appear to be mainly dry, although I can feel my hair sticking to my neck slightly where I forgot to get a haircut after my weird hair growth spurt after being off inhibitors at the clinic.

I wriggle upright and peer over the couch to see Doctor Cox making coffee and looking stressed out. He’s just wearing his pajama pants again and I fervently tell myself to stop staring.

“Hey Doctor Cox.”

He looks back at me, trying to hide his expression and gives me a fake grin. “Hey Newbie. You feeling better?”

I nod at him and he walks over to the couch, sitting down next to me and passing me a coffee, nursing one to himself. He looks at me thoughtfully, cocking his head.

“So, I think what happened yesterday was your system completely rejecting the inhibitors.”

“Sounds about right. Now what?”

I try not allow the hopelessness to wash over me as it did last night, try not to think that this is the end of the road, that I’m going to have to… what? All I’ve ever wanted was to be a doctor. If I can’t then I guess I go back to Ohio and get Dan to sell me to the highest bidder while I still have some inherent value. Then at least I’ll be helping my family.

Otherwise, what? Me living with Dan, cramping his style, every meal costing him something because I wouldn’t be able to even get a job. Maybe I could go work at an omega heat clinic. Or start a vlog like Iolite and bitch about how shitty it is that omegas get treated the way we do and then read endless comments where assholes tell me to stop whining and go get knotted, it’d loosen me up.

Doctor Cox interrupts my internal miserable ramblings. “Well, now we try to figure out what’s up.”

“How do we do that? Cohen’s already done all the medical tests and neither of us know anything about omega disorders. And we can’t use Doctor Google again, I can’t deal with the porn right now.”

He shrugs. “First things first, Newbie. I’m gonna go shower and then go buy you some clothes that don’t make you look like you’re wearing a toga. You’re gonna message that idiot you live with some convincing lie about your scooter not working and you… oh, I don’t know, hooked up with some mechanic or something. Say you’ll be away for a couple days on some nerdy sex marathon. Then shower. I figure I need to be able to smell your pheromones properly and, sorry to break this to ya again, but you mainly smell of sweaty pomegranate right now. And slightly like vomit still.”

I feel so very attractive. “Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing and get texting some romantic fiction, Jane Austen.”

He walks over to the bathroom and I pull my cellphone out of my scrubs pants from last night. I’ve got a missed call and a WhatsApp message from “Chocolate Bear”.

_Hey man, where you at? Sasha’s still at Sacred Heart and you ain’t at home, you didn’t pull a double shift because of Cox or something, right?_

I frown, trying to think of something realistic I can actually send. Claiming a sex marathon would be kinda ridiculous because a. I think I’ve only ever had a sex marathon once and I’m clearly not a marathon runner, more a sprinter and b. Turk would then inevitably ask a load of questions. You know, if I ever actually see him again.

When I have hooked up with someone (and yeah, I do occasionally) then I usually don’t tell Turk, at best I’ll hint at it. Mainly because I’m worried he might eventually notice that I repeatedly have terrible relationships with beta girls that never seem to go anywhere and claiming I’m commitment-phobic seems a bad fit with the rest of my character. The Elliot thing was a blip, she was too much of a temptation and I’m a total asshole for using her that way, even though I ended it for surprisingly noble reasons.

I blink at my cell and try to think.

_Hey CB. Sorry man, Sasha’s crashed out, I think her service was overdue or something._

I consider it for a moment. It would be tempting to try some double bluff, like saying I actually am where I am, but Doctor Cox has already claimed I stayed over here once last month. Turk and Carla are already being weird about him right now, I think his constantly guard-dogging has been picked up on. They both seem to think he’s putting too much pressure on me, with Carla commenting that he needs to let me just work without him constantly hanging over my shoulder and Turk just saying that he’s an asshole who likes to torment me.

_I’ve got the next couple days off and thought you and Carla could do with some space from me constantly hanging around the apartment so I’ve gone down to the coast for a while to try to score with some laydieeess. Be back soon._

A few minutes later he replies.

_Hey V-Bear. C and I are fine, we don’t need space. We actually miss you when you aren’t around, otherwise C does those Cosmo quizzes on me and apparently I answer the questions wrong. Even if you have eaten all the freezer pizza, what’s with that dude?_

_Have you picked some chick up?_

I bite my lip. _A gentleman never tells, Turk._ That’s hopefully lame enough to be taken as a “no”.

_But you’re not wearing your lucky boxers!_

I’m worried that Turk is aware of this fact. Anyway, the lucky boxers are for exams and interviews and things, not getting laid.

_Whatever dude. I’ll see you soon, assuming I don’t decide to stay and live on Venice Beach. I could sell shell necklaces for a living._

I’m still daydreaming about this and any sort of viable business plan for my hippy seashell business (maybe I could get some kind of sponsorship deal?) when Doctor Cox re-emerges, thankfully now fully dressed and so considerably less distracting. He gives me an annoyed look, apparently noticing me daydreaming and I snap my attention back to him.

“You sent Gandhi something?”

“Yeah, he seemed to buy it.”

“Great, great. Okay, I’m gonna go pick some stuff up for you, you go shower.”

I take ages to actually get into the shower, since I end up staring at myself in the mirror for so long. I’ve never looked so _omega_ before and I can’t tell whether it bothers me or not. On inhibitors I look pretty much like I remember looking before presenting; pallid, dark unmanageable wiry hair, a bit gawky and skinny and like I’m not quite in control of my slightly overlong limbs. And I don’t look that much different off the inhibitors, they’re minor things but result in what feels to me like an unnervingly different appearance. I’m pale as opposed to pallid, my skin looking smooth and flawless and creamy. My hair’s thicker, more lustrous and shiny, waving away from my face and with a shit-load a volume that I normally have to emulate with mousse. And there’s the eyes, of course. And I’m still gawky and a bit scrawny, but I somehow seem to be more comfortable in my own skin, move more gracefully. And stupid little things, my lips seem slightly fuller, bone structure more defined, even my teeth seem whiter.

I frown at myself in the mirror, eyebrows lowering. It’s ridiculous, these are all _girly_ kind of things, but I don’t look girly, actually. I remember hating that when I presented and the comments; “oh, it’s a shame, he was so clever, but isn’t he beautiful now?”, “you must be so pleased, sometimes the males look weird but isn’t he pretty?” and worst of all “what a good mother he’ll make”.

I’d wanted to snap “ _father, not mother”_ and also point out I hadn’t lost IQ points when I presented. But it honestly was infuriating and all the descriptors sounded like the way you’d talk about a beautiful woman, not a miserable, lost teenage boy. Of course, I’m older now and am well aware that it’s not just women who can be called beautiful or pretty, but for some reason it still bugs me.

Which is why I think I’m feeling oddly relieved that I don’t look more girly, quite the opposite. Omega me actually looks slightly more… animalistic than beta me. Not girlier. And yeah, maybe prettier, but pretty like a tiger’s pretty.

I grin at myself for a second, then get into the shower.

\- - - - -

Doctor Cox still isn’t back, so I steal another one of his shirts and then hunt down some food. The constant, craving hunger is still there and I threw up everything I ate yesterday so it seems to have come back with a vengeance. I can’t find much in the fridge that I seem to want to eat, so hunt through the cupboards, finding some canned salmon.

I eat it, ignoring how fucking weird that is. I then hunt down another tin and eat that, unfortunately timing being halfway through ravenously stuffing it down my face when Doctor Cox returns and gives me a confused look.

“Newbie, are you eating a tin of fish?”

I try to stop eating, but only succeed in slowing down slightly. “Um. Yeah. Sorry, did you want this for something?”

“… No. Just as you aren’t a domestic cat I thought that was slightly unusual.” He briefly looks horrified. “There’s no chance you could be pregnant, right?”

I roll my eyes. “Of course not, even Cohen’s confirmed I’m not mated. I saw that in his report, the bastard. So unless it’s the second coming of Christ, then no.”

He drops a bag of clothes on the table for me and I hurriedly shove the rest of the can of salmon into my mouth. He notices the other empty and fishes it out of the trash, washing it out and putting it into the recycling, briefly making me feel like an environmentally unfriendly bastard.

“So… you’re hungry?”

I wash out the second can and put it into the recycling. “Yeah.”

“Are you still hungry?”

I consider this. “Kinda.”

“Yeah, well, go put some clothes on and brush your teeth, I don’t want you burping with fish breath at me all day. And, am I wrong here, or don’t you usually half eat most of your food and then leave it? Why’re you suddenly on a protein and omega fatty acids binge?”

Why has he noticed that? He barely ever sits near me at the cafeteria, let alone close enough to see what I’m eating.

“Um. Yeah. I’ve kinda been hungry ever since my heat. I thought it was just… y’know, resetting back?”

He frowns. “Go change. There is actually someone I can ask about that, at least.”

I take the clothes he’s picked up for me and go into the bathroom, discovering he’s also bought a toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash, various pomegranate smelling toiletries and… oh my God, he bought me mousse. It’s even the right brand.

And the clothes are kinda nice too. Not my usual cheap-ass stuff, these actually feel like they’re made of something other than wire wool and plastic. I pull some on (also, how many has he bought, shit, I hope I’m not stuck here that long, I’ll get fired for not showing up to work), brush my teeth and use the mousse.

Doctor Cox is talking to someone on his laptop when I come back out. I frown and walk over to him, hanging back out of shot. He waves me over distractedly, still talking to whoever’s on the other end.

“Here’s Sasha.”

I look over his shoulder and jump. A grinning, elfin-looking dominant omega guy is staring back at me, looking like it’s fucking Christmas or something.

“Oh my God! Sasha actually exists, I was getting worried you were just a pervert.”

“Sasha?” I ask Doctor Cox. He shrugs, looking embarrassed.

“I figured it was a non de plume that you might have gone for.”

“Perry’s told me _all_ about you! Hi, I’m Max. Are you not called Sasha? I just kind of assumed you were Russian for some reason.”

“Oh, has _Perry_?” I glance back at him and he looks even more awkward. “And why did he think you might be a pervert?”

“I’ve been asking him for help about what’s going on with you. Only he never knew much about inhibitor rejection, so it’s not been that productive so far, _but_ I was thinking he might be able to comment on how you’re feeling now.”

“Hey, are you really tall or is Perry a short alpha?”

I roll my eyes. “I’m 5’10. And he’s sitting down right now.”

“Oh my God, you’re a freak.”

“Thanks. I know.”

“So, what’s happening?” Max cocks his head to one side and regards me thoughtfully. “Perry spoke to me before about the inhibitors not working, but you clearly _aren’t_ on inhibitors now.”

“No, they really aren’t working now.” I mutter. “Ever since I came off my heat I’ve had some… weird side effects to the inhibitors.”

“What like?”

“I’m _so_ hungry all the time. Like, if I give it to it I eat loads. And I’m sleeping badly, alphas smell terrible and I want to spend time with omegas a lot more. And I’m getting headaches. And can’t focus well.”

Doctor Cox scoffs slightly at my last statement. Max is looking confused.

“Uh, well the massive appetite is just being omega. We eat shit-loads. It’s something to do with our biology and the pheromones and things, it takes a lot of energy because we’re a bit… evolved.”

I frown. “You mean male omegas particularly?”

“Well, just being an omega means you need a higher calorie intake, even higher than alphas. The scent gland burns up a huge amount of energy and dominant omegas produce much stronger pheromones than alphas do, so our scent glands work overtime to produce them. We tend to produce more as well, even when we're trained not to release them too much, we're just a lot more... reactive than alphas. If they produce weak pheromones we tend to automatically hit back with a much stronger response. But yeah, male omegas then need an even higher calorie consumption - and I guess female alphas. We technically have two separate reproductive systems, albeit our original ones are redundant after presentation. So yeah, you end up really hungry, which is probably a shock after being on inhibitors, they shut most of that stuff down. If you aren’t eating when you’re hungry that probably explains the headaches and maybe the sleep problems and unfocused feeling. You need to massively increase your calorific intake. Then probably exercise more, because your body will likely insist you need more than you actually do and then you get fat. Or I do, anyway, I practically go spherical if I don’t…”

“Oh.” I glance at Doctor Cox. “So maybe eating two cans of salmon isn’t that weird?”

“No, that’s weird,” Max supplies helpfully. “Unless you’re a Maine Coon in disguise.”

“What about the other alphas?”

Max frowns. “Other alphas?”

I point at Doctor Cox absently. “He doesn’t smell weird. The rest of them do.”

“Oh. I dunno. I mean, after I bonded other alphas smelt pretty bad to me. But you’re not bonded, right?”

“Nope.”

“With me it was something to do with chemical and pheromonal changes with bonding. It went away eventually. But that can’t be the reason…” he shrugs. “I don’t know. Sorry. Probably something messing up your biochemistry. I'm guessing you're regulating your pheromones fine?”

“Yeah, that all seems to be working.”

"Thought so, you'd be more panicked if you weren't."

“Like I said, Newb,” Doctor Cox points out. “Something underlying.”

“Newb?” Max asks, confused.

“He has a number of offensive nicknames for me.”

Max smirks and I notice Doctor Cox shifting in his chair uncomfortably. “Guessing he teases you a fair bit?”

“Oh my God, you have no idea.”

Doctor Cox interrupts us. “So, thanks for that, Max. We should-”

Max frowns. “I want to talk to Sasha. I never get to talk to male dominant omegas.”

He briefly looks miserable and lonely. “Do you know any?” I ask him. He shakes his head.

“No, I’ve met some recessive ones. But not another dominant.”

Doctor Cox prods me. “We need to figure this out. I’m not letting you get banished back to Ohio to live with your idiot brother.”

I look back at Max. “Can we talk later?”

He nods enthusiastically and beams at me. I give him a slightly shaky smile back and shut down the chat window.

“So… how do you know him?”

“He writes a blog. I found it a while ago. I was going to suggest you talk to him before, but then you decided to have your heat and I kinda forgot.”

“He seems lonely.”

Doctor Cox rolls his eyes. “Oh, wah. He has his alpha. He’s just curious to meet someone else like him.”

“Well, I do kind of sympathize with that. That’s probably hard for you to imagine, it feels like there’s dominant alphas everywhere.”

“Yeah yeah, Newbie, I get it, stop with your constant social commentary. Alphas are all assholes, omegas are repressed, I get it.”

I roll my eyes. “I wasn’t actually saying that. I was just saying it's... a weird sensation, basically never seeing anyone the same as you. I get why he feels lonely.”

“Whatever. Let’s try to figure out what the hell’s wrong with you.”

He shoves me over towards the couch and I reluctantly head over. “What are you actually planning on doing? We don’t know what’s normal.”

“Well, we now know it’s normal for you to apparently want to eat your own body weight to power your odd biology, so I figured I’d order a pizza. Otherwise, I guess the usual checks.”

He’s fiddling around with something in the kitchen and then produces an ophthalmoscope, otoscope and a tongue compressor. I give him a doubtful look. “We’re doing ENT?”

“It’s a basic start, Newbie, stop bitching.”

I want to bitch, I’m slightly worried I’ll burp salmon at him when he checks my throat. “Why do you have a load of diagnostics equipment back there?”

“Took it from Sacred Heart when your heat was starting. Scoot over.”

I fortunately don’t exhale in his face when he checks my throat, although he spends some time shining a light into my mouth trying to check my canines, despite my protesting that they don’t hurt.

“They’re just weird, Newbie, I’m trying to get a better look at them. They look nothing like mine.”

I flap at him, trying to get the tongue compressor out my mouth and he ignores me, continuing to frown at them. “They look ridiculously sharp, what happens when you bite your tongue?”

I give him a pointed look, unable to answer with my mouth wide open. He removes the tongue compressor and I burp to myself quietly, apparently having caused minor gas out of nerves.

“One, no, of course they don’t look like your’s. Alphas practically have sabre teeth, they’re for dominance. Omegas have them for bonding. And I think self defense. Two, I try not to bite my tongue.”

“Fair enough. Look into this.”

He also stares at my eyes for a ridiculous length of time and I’m pretty sure he’s just doing the standard alpha melting thing they do around dominant omega eyes. I blink away the neon after effects from the light when he checks my ears, then give him an exasperated look when he checks my heart rate.

“So, let me guess; I have sharp canines, weird eyes and everything else seems pretty normal?”

“Basically, yeah.”

The doorbell rings and he goes to retrieve the pizza that he apparently ordered when I wasn’t looking. Or – to be more accurate – the three pizzas. He chucks one of them at me.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

I look inside the box and then surreptitiously check the other boxes to find one without pepperoni and he rolls his eyes.

\- - - - -

Newbie’s cramming pizza down himself like there’s about to be a worldwide shortage and I back off and leave him to do that, listening out for any tell-tale signs of him choking himself. I’ve no idea how he can exercise currently, but the kid could do with putting some weight on anyway, assuming he actually is like Max. I don’t remember Paige eating like she was carb-loading, but Max reckoned it applied more to male omegas and female alphas. Jordan did tend to eat an unnerving amount for someone so thin, so maybe he’s right on that.

I spend some time on the laptop, checking to see if there’s any articles online about omega physicals (guess what, porn again) or anything specific with omegas that needs checking medically. The only thing I can see is something about checking scent glands and so I then spend some time researching how the hell you do that. I then, slightly desperately, look to see if there are experts on omegas that _don’t_ specialize just in fertility and come up with a blank. Dammit.

“Oh God. I’m really sorry, I just ate two pizzas.”

I glance back at him. “Wasn’t the second one a meat feast?”

“Yeah, I picked off the pepperoni. Do you want it?”

“Shockingly, no.”

He gives me a guilty look. “Do you want this one?”

“Are you still hungry?”

He gives the pizza a side glance. “No…”

“Is that ‘yes, but I just ate two large pizzas’?”

“Yeah.”

“Eat the goddamn pizza, Newbie.”

I walk back over to him and watch him for a minute. He’s eating a lot slower than previously and looks considerably more alert than earlier. “Okay, so apart from you apparently becoming a human trash can, are you feeling better?”

“Yeah.”

He stops eating the pizza after three more slices and shoves the box at me. “You done?”

“Yeah.”

I take a slice. “Why didn’t you say you were that hungry? You were eating like you’d been starved.”

“I dunno. I’ve just been ignoring it.”

“The only other thing I can find online has been that omegas should have their scent glands checked, but I’ve no idea how to do that. Has anyone ever done that to you?”

“No.”

“Yeah, I thought as much.”

“Uh. Yeah, I have thought of one thing, but you aren’t going to like it.”

I roll my eyes. “What’s new?”

“Well, there is one person who might know a bit more about all this – or know an expert.”

I lift my eyebrows, chewing. “And you’re only telling me this now because…?”

“Because it’s Elliot.”

I frown. “Absolutely not.”

“She studied omegas medically, even examined dominant ones as part of her course. And will definitely know someone who can at least theorize about what the hell is going on.”

“Yeah, but she’s _Barbie_ , Newbie. She can’t keep a secret to save her life – assuming she doesn’t immediately shop us to Kelso.”

“She hates Kelso. And she hates how omegas are treated.”

“Really, Newb? And you don’t think she’ll be just sli- _hightly_ pissed off that you pretended to be an entirely different gender and dated her? Then broke up with her for no real reason?”

I possibly just showed my hand way more than I meant to, considering I claim I’m utterly disinterested in his relationships. “It might make slightly more sense to her if she did find out the truth…”

“Oh, really? And what’s that, that you didn’t feel like committing to someone so goddamn annoying?”

Newbie glares at me. “No, that I couldn’t be what she wanted. She was supposed to be a sort of cover for me and I couldn’t do that to her. It was cruel.”

Oh. Oh, I was nahwt expecting that, I was expecting some immature drivel about not being ready for commitment or something. “You broke up with her… for her?”

“I broke up with her because I was lying to her. The whole ‘John Dorian’s afraid of commitment’ bullshit is exactly that; bullshit. I can _only_ date betas if I don’t want to accidentally show some sort of omega reaction and I _like_ dating beta girls, just there’s no… there’s no future. So I try to go for girls who I can see there’s no real connection to so it just kinda fizzles out. Elliot was a mistake, a shitty mistake on my part. I liked her too much and when she seemed to like me back… well, it would have been cruel, right? So… I stopped it.” He shrugs tiredly at me. “It seemed to be the best way of dealing with it.”

I feel unpleasantly like I’ve been kicked in the stomach and I’m not even sure why. I stare at him for a moment longer and then sigh. “Okay, Newbie. It’s your funeral if it goes wrong, although I could murder her, I suppose.”

That’s a weirdly tempting thought. It makes the stomach churning sensation I had a moment ago die down slightly.

“You alright?”

“I’m fine, I think the pizza disagreed with me slightly.

“Shit. If it was bad I’m going to be puking all night.”

“I’m sure you’re fine, Newbie.”

“Can you call her and ask her to come over?”

I raise my eyebrows at him. “Seriously? She’s not going to go for that in a million years, Flora.”

“Uh. She might. If…”

I narrow my eyes. “If what?”

“If you actually call her Elliot?”

“If I call her that she’ll call the cops, thinking I’m under duress.”

“Please?”

He looks at me with his stupid omega eyes and I can feel myself internally turning into mush already. I sigh again.

“Fine, Newbie. But you need to give me her number.”

“You don’t have it?”

I rolls my eyes. “Obviously not. I don’t have anyone’s number from the hospital apart from the people I genuinely enjoy engaging with. As you’re aware, that’s not many.”

“But… you had my number. I assumed you had contact details for everyone from when we were all residents.”

Oh, shit shit shit. I think quickly. “Obviously I had your number in case I needed to, uh, to get you in an emergency. A medical emergency. Obviously.”

He’s looking annoyingly pleased and I briefly want to cuff the back of his head. “Stop reading into that, Newbie, you’re chasing the wrong conclusion.”

Actually, he’s chasing the right conclusion and my initial statement about only having the number of those I enjoy engaging with is true, but I’m not going to tell him that. He scrabbles around for his cell and then reads Barbie’s number out to me. I tap it into my cell and sigh at him.

“If she says no then you can’t blame me.”

“As long as you call her Elliot.”

I press the call button. She picks up on the fifth ring.

“Hello?”

“Hey Barbie? It’s-“

“Yeah, I know who it is. Nobody else calls me _Barbie_ , believe it or not.”

“Really? But it’s just so goshdarn _you_.”

“What do you want, Doctor Cox?”

“Uh. Look, I’ve got a favor to ask. Would you mind coming over to my place for something?”

There’s a pause. She eventually responds, her voice laced with suspicion. “Why?”

“Look… Elliot, could you please come over? I’ll explain when you’re here.”

To my surprise, she agrees and confirms my address, telling me she’ll be here in ten minutes before hanging up. I look over at Newbie. “Hey, look at that. You were right.”

“It does sometimes happen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Found it rather cute that Doctor Cox knew at the beginning of the chapter that JD was terrified and obsessing over losing control and could actually reassure him enough to calm back down. Also, yayyy, JD met Max. Virtually. Max also apparently knows quite a lot about cat breeds, since he compares JD (an enormous omega) to a Maine Coon (an enormous cat).
> 
> There was some foreshadowing I was going to pull Elliot in - apologies to the readers who were hoping I'd get Carla to know after Doctor Cox!
> 
> Also, yeah, still no sex, sorry. The kitchen is starting to smoke from all the simmering though, particularly JD's aroused daydreaming and him *finally* letting Doctor Cox physically comfort him when he's not nearly unconscious or drunk from pheromones. And once again we get jealous Perry, because he's just so fun to write.
> 
> Doug's a beta. Just if you were wondering - there's no real reason for anyone to mention it in the narrative. Probably not pleasant for alphas or omegas to work in a morgue, what with their enhanced sense of smell.


	13. 13. My Realization

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Incoming Elliot, everyone...

**My Unorthodox Treatment**

**by RumCove**

**My Realization**

Disclaimer: Scrubs original characters belong to Bill Lawrence and NBC/ABC/Doozer Productions etc. Basically, not owned by me. I own the original characters in this work.

I’m waiting by the door when Barbie rings the doorbell and so open it immediately. She jumps, stepping back slightly and wrapping her arms around herself in a defensive gesture, pulling her open raincoat closed and huffing her bangs out of her eyes.

“Hey Barbie.”

“Hey Doctor Cox. What happened to calling me ‘Elliot’?”

I shrug. “Look… uh, you can come in. Just… just don’t overreact, okay?”

She narrows her eyes. “Have you got someone else in there with you?”

“Yeah. Just… please, just don’t make him feel worse, alright?” I mutter it so Newbie can’t hear me. Her eyes widen and she nods slightly. I let her in and she brushes past me, freezing when she sees Newbie sat on the couch, nervously wringing his hands, his eyes very clearly glowing. She absolutely realizes what he is and I quietly close the door behind her and lock it, thinking in a worst-case scenario I’ll trap her in here. We can lock her in the rut room until she agrees to keep her mouth shut.

“Hey Elliot.”

The worry and concern is audible in his voice, which is trembling slightly. I remember what he said about how he felt anxious whenever he wasn't on inhibitors and how he said people reacted to him before and realize just how desperate he is that he’s doing this. It’s absolutely destroying any chance he may have kept of starting something up with her again, as well as potentially wrecking his career. And his friendship with her, which I know is there, however much I claim I’m disinterested in their interactions.

“Oh… JD…”

She’s reanimated abruptly and walked over to him, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him close to her. He looks pleasantly surprised by this reaction and then hugs her back, leaning his head against her’s. I bite back the growl I want to release, the stomach-churning sensation from earlier returning. I move slightly closer and hear him muttering to her.

“Elliot, I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you, I’m so sorry I messed you around, I know I misled you, it’s just-“

“Shh. It’s fine JD, I get it. It actually makes a lot more sense now.”

She pulls back and looks at me. “How long have you known?”

I shrug. “Since that omega in ER. About a month and a half.”

“And you’ve not told anyone?”

“No,” I growl. “And neither will you.”

She rolls her eyes. “Well, obviously I won’t.” She turns back to Newbie. “I mean, JD, this is incredible. How’ve you managed to do this?”

He looks worried. “Inhibitors. I’ve been on them since I was seventeen, they’ve been working fine until just recently.”

“That’s why I called you,” I tell Barbie, not hugely wanting to get back into Newbie’s convoluted backstory, thinking the less Barbie knows the better. “Fiona here tells me you studied this in college. We thought you might have something to suggest.”

Barbie frowns, looking at Newbie carefully. “So you had no issues before? The inhibitors were working fine?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense. I saw you most days and I’ve had a lot of experience with omegas and didn’t pick up on it at all.” She looks at me. “And you couldn’t smell anything on him? Nothing?”

“Not a damn thing.”

“And I lived with a dominant alpha and a recessive omega and they didn’t pick anything up. I was _good_ at hiding it, Elliot.”

“And then they just… stopped working?”

“Well, Amber FitzAlan bled all over me and her scent gland was nearly torn out. That kind of unbalanced me and made them fail first time. Then it’s been… well, patchy.”

“But you’ve been working since then. So you got them working again? Apart from that week you went home.”

“I… uh, I didn’t go home. The inhibitors kept failing so I tried to reset it.”

“How?”

“By going through a heat.”

Barbie’s suddenly on her feet and glaring at me. “Did you do _anything_ -?”

I back off, surprised by her aggressiveness. “Jesus, Barbie. No. I mean, I took him to the heat clinic and booked him in, since he’s not allowed to himself.”

“Right, right…” she shakes her head, lifting her hands in an apologetic gesture. “Sorry. Just… look, how have you managed to be around him so much? I can’t pick up pheromones but I know he must have strong pheromones and that’s hard for a dominant alpha to deal with.”

I lift my eyebrows. “Because I can actually control myself and don’t use biology as an excuse?”

“I guess the alpha protectiveness thing kicked in too?”

I shrug slightly self-consciously. It’s none of her goddamn business.

“Okay, so you went through a heat. And did that help?”

“Yeah. For four weeks. Then yesterday they just… crashed.”

“He just seemed to go into complete rejection yesterday,” I tell her. “Threw up his medication, very rapidly stopped looking beta, sweating, overheating… obviously we didn’t try any more of the inhibitors.”

“Jesus…” Barbie breathes.

“You’re telling me, it happened in Sacred Heart…”

“Have you checked his scent gland?”

I frown at her. “I saw that online, but I’ve no idea how to do that. I thought they weren’t even visible unless the omega’s bonded.”

“Oh, there’s a technique to do it.” She sits down on the couch next to Newbie. “JD, do you mind?”

“Sure.”

I crouch down to watch her. She glances at me. “What?”

“I… wanted to see how you do it. It might just be something useful to know if Beth here makes a habit of this.”

“Oh. Sure. So, you can check the scent gland on a dominant omega, it just involves kinda redirecting the blood-flow. Then it becomes visible.”

She gently takes Newbie’s jaw in both her hands and carefully presses his mandible upwards, extending his throat. She keeps one hand anchoring his chin in place and then begins to softly massage a spot on his neck with her thumb, fanning her fingers out across the front of his throat, pressing against his vocal chords.

Newbie makes a quiet humming noise and then starts to almost inaudibly purr. I try to ignore the immediate physical response I feel at that.

“Omegas purr for different reasons, one is if you do this massage on them.”

“I thought it was an arousal response?”

She smirks. “Yeah, that’s what alphas are told. It can be an arousal thing, but it can also be for other reasons. Being content and happy is one. This directly stimulates their scent gland and vocal chords, so almost always makes them purr. He’s… gone kinda spacey too. It sort of drugs them, makes them release soothing pheromones which make them woozy. It's weird actually, because dominant omegas have such potent pheromones they can knock themselves out.”

“Yeah, I know it's potent, it’s drugging me too. Hurry up Barbie, or I’ll put reggae on.”

She moves her hand away and then moves closer, examining his neck. “Okay, so that’s weird.”

I shake my head, clearly the soothing fug away. “What?”

She points at where her thumb has been, where there’s a distinct red, slightly swollen area. “The massage makes blood flow to the scent gland which brings it to the surface. It causes the same response as bonding pheromones would; if he wanted to bond this would need to be raised like it is now. But it shouldn’t be inflamed like that, it should just look slightly raised.”

I narrow my eyes, staring at it. “Does that mean something?”

She shrugs. “I don’t really know. Whenever I did the massage before it didn’t look like this. On an unbonded omega it should just be raised and pale. On a bonded omega it should be full on red all of the time and raised in response to the massage. I've never seen one... _flushed_ like this. It doesn't look like either.”

Newbie’s head rolls abruptly and he stops purring, the massage apparently no longer working it’s magic. “Huh?”

“Your scent gland’s weird, Newbie.”

“Oh.” He blinks, apparently trying to sober himself up.

“So, it could be some sort of… what pheromonal imbalance?” I ask Barbie. She shrugs, looking perplexed.

“I… I guess.”

“Is there anyone who would know?”

She frowns. “I could ask my old professor. He might be able to help.”

“Would he keep it quiet?”

“I don’t see why not. It would probably be better not to tell him that JD’s a doctor though. We could probably explain it without that detail, we just say he’s a dominant omega on inhibitors. An unbonded one, although I guess you have a responsible alpha?”

“Dan,” Newbie mutters.

“Frick.”

“My feelings exactly, Barbie.”

“I doubt he’ll be able to talk right now, I’ll email him and see when he can.”

“The sooner the better. Tracey here can’t exactly go to work in the state she’s in at the minute.”

“Yeah, I appreciate that. JD, what have you told Turk and Carla?”

He shrugs, still looking slightly woozy. “I made some shit up about giving them some space and being down by the coast. I’m not sure Turk bought it.”

“When are you back on shift?”

“Uh… Friday? And it’s Tuesday today, right? In two days, although I guess I could call in sick again.”

She pulls a face. “We could tell them we hooked up again.”

Newbie gives her a sharp look, finally focusing again. “What?”

“You could use me as an excuse. That might work? Say you’re at my place.”

Newbie frowns. “I don’t want to use you like that-“

“Yeah, well I’m offering to be used. I can ‘accidentally’ mention it at work tonight if you want?”

“Shit, are you on shift soon? I’m sorry Elliot.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t sweat it, I was too curious as to what Doctor Cox would want help with to stoop to using my actual name. Do you want me to put my foot in my mouth true-Elliot style?”

“Uh. Yeah. That’d be good. Thanks for this Elliot.”

“No problem.” She hugs him again briefly and stands up. “I gotta get going or I’ll be late. You’ll be fine, JD. Just relax.”

“Thanks Elliot.”

I walk with her to the door. She glares at me and quietly asks: “Why are you doing this?”

I shrug. “Kid needs help.”

“You’ve not cared about that before.”

“I generally come through for him.”

She smiles slightly at that. “Yeah, I guess you do. Not for anyone else though. Why do you think that is?”

I frown at her. “I didn’t know he was omega until recently, if you’re implying-“

“Oh, I’m implying.” She grins at me. “And you not knowing? That just suggests it’s not just a biological thing. But whatever, Doctor Cox, I’m sure you know best.”

She sashays out and I briefly want to throw something at her.

\- - - - -

My cell chimes about two hours after Elliot’s left with a WhatsApp message of “ _Operation FIM is complete_ ”. Doctor Cox glances at it over my shoulder as we watch a movie with Brad Pitt and Morgan Freeman trying to track down a serial killer in a city that appears to be have some sort of weird micro-environment causing it to constantly rain.

“FIM?” he asks me.

“I’m guessing Foot In Mouth. We should see in a minute – oh.”

A new message has just appeared on my cell.

_Chocolate Bear: Dude, Elliot just blew you guys clean outta the water. Why didn’t you tell me?!_

“Yeah, that’s what it meant.”

He makes a “hmph”ing noise, his brow furrowing at the TV. “So, everyone thinks the Newbie-Barbie show is back in town?”

He sounds weirdly bitter about it and I frown at him. “Well, that did make sense, right? It’s a pretty good story.”

“Apart from the car crash that happened last time? Are you both supposed to have conveniently forgotten about that?”

I shrug. “I can just say it’s a friends with benefits thing and it's none of his business. No need to be concerned about a car crash relationship, although I'm not sure Elliot's considered what to say to Keith about it. I think they're casual though. Oh… Gwyneth Paltrow’s head is in that box, isn’t it?”

“Probably.”

I message Turk back.

_Me: Because you wouldn’t approve? Also, it’s early days._

He replies almost immediately.

_Chocolate Bear: Damn right I wouldn’t. You know what happened last time._

_Me: Yeah, I know. It’s not like that this time, okay?_

_Chocolate Bear: Whatever dude. Don't come crying to me when you get your heart broken or break her's again. Guessing we’re not going to see you at the apartment for the next few days?_

I send him a winking emoji and feel Doctor Cox shift against me and then smell… sadness? Seriously? What is his problem? Is it Gwyneth Paltrow’s head in the box?

I chuck my cell away and stretch, yawning. I didn’t sleep much last night and I’m getting tired, despite it only being 8pm.

“You at work tomorrow?”

“No, my shifts match your’s at the minute, remember?”

“Oh yeah.”

I think about it for a minute. “Thanks Doctor Cox.”

“What for?”

I shrug. “Everything?” I thanked Elliot earlier and realized then just how much he’s been doing for me. I felt pathetically grateful for her helping once and he’s constantly been doing it.

“That’s alright Newbie – oh, Brad Pitt shot him. Saw that comin’.”

“Yeah. Morgan Freeman’s totally not going to retire now.”

“You realize you used the same fake name as this murderer, right?”

“Jon _athan_ Doe. And I was heating, don’t be mean.”

“Hey Newbie, is it alright if I do that massage thing? I wanna check on what Barbie was talking about.”

I give him a suspicious look. He’s looking unconvincingly innocent. “Why?”

“Because I couldn’t quite see it before. And being able to do that check on you would probably be useful, so I want to try it.”

I frown. I was fine with Elliot doing it but I’m not sure I want him to. It makes me feel weird, if I’m honest, I end up totally disorientated and totally stoned from my own pheromones. “It’s strange for me…”

“I know, Newbie. But it calms you down, right? It’s why it’s done and you seem to get pretty freaked out sometimes when you're not on the inhibitors. Might be useful to try to get you to stop panicking and think properly. Barbie said you actually knock yourself out with your own pheromones, did you realize you could do that?”

I shrug. "Yeah, I did it a couple times with Dan before I was on inhibitors. He'd release mild ones and the omega response is to release our own. Just it knocked us both out usually. I don't think I can do it without smelling alpha or omega ones first or... or that creepy massage thing."

"One hell of a cure for insomnia, Newb. Maybe we could bottle your pheromones somehow and market them as an alternative to Ambien?"

"It wouldn't work on betas."

"It was a joke, Newbie, I still have my soul so have no desire to go into pharmaceuticals. Stop changing the subject anyway, will you let me try it on you?"

I try not to sigh. I do trust him and I know he won’t do anything bad. I just… I just don’t want to end up a purring mess in his hands. It was bad enough with Elliot doing it, it would be worse with him. I’m not entirely sure why, but it just would be.

“Sure, okay.”

\- - - - -

I gently press Newbie’s chin up with both hands, the way Barbie did earlier, elongating the column of his throat. I hook my thumb under his chin and cup his face in my hand, dropping the other down to span across his neck. His breathing’s slightly fast; he’s nervous about me doing this. I softly begin to massage the same general area Barbie did, tracing my fingers along his vocal chords, mimicking her actions. He starts to do the same humming noise as earlier, then begins to purr, this time considerably more loudly than he did with Barbie. His head lolls and I catch his face, keeping him upright. I look closer at the scent gland, examining the pink raised skin. I drop my nose down and inhale carefully.

I’m not sure what I’m trying to identify; the smell of sickness, something wrong maybe, something Barbie wouldn’t pick up. But there’s nothing concerning, nothing smells out of place. It’s a sweet, heady, comforting, almost honeyed scent that makes my eyes roll slightly. I drop my head lower and breathe in deeply. My lips part slightly and I pull back, quashing down the sudden strong urge to bite. I return to lightly massaging his neck, trying to choke down the panic at the reaction I just had.

“Hey Newbie?”

“Nnnyeah?”

“You want me to carry on doing this?”

His head falls back abruptly, resting against my chest. I move my other hand to start to massage the other side of his neck. His eyelids flutter, looking up at me, dazed, pupils dilated, utterly out of it, essentially drunk.

“Yeah…”

“Okay.”

I carry on until his purrs deepen and he falls asleep, sprawled against me. When I carefully take my hands away from his neck he continues to purr almost tenderly, turning his head to nuzzle against my arm and settle back down. I wrap an arm around him and hold him against me.

This was unfair of me. I damn well know that. I’ve essentially just knocked him out because I was feeling jealous. And because I wanted him to know I could make him feel as relaxed and comforted as Barbie could make him.

And now I feel shit, because the purring was more pronounced when I did it and I totally just took advantage of the whole alpha-omega dynamic. I don't need to prove I can make him feel relaxed and comforted, I damn well know I can and he does too. There was no reason to do this apart from me feeling... what, inferior? Compared to _Barbie_ of all people. I stroke his hair lightly, flinching at the sticky sensation of the mousse and regretting buying it for him. He snuggles up against me, pressing his nose against my clavicle, inhaling deeply and then purring incredibly loudly. I freeze up, watching him.

I feel like I should understand something from this, but I mainly just feel a bit lost and confused. I’ve spent so much time choking down the reactions I’ve been feeling around him that I barely dare let myself even consider them. And not just for the last couple months; Barbie’s right about that. This isn’t a new sensation, this hasn’t come about from my finding out that he’s an omega.

I sigh and gather him into my arms, standing up and carrying him through to the bedroom. I deposit him onto the bed and caress his shoulder, watching him bury his face against my pillow and continue purring contentedly into it.

God, I want so badly to just crawl into bed with him, wrap myself around him. And, of course, I don’t. He can already smell me on the bedsheets and is clearly pretty happy with that. He doesn’t need the threat of the real thing with him.

And I am a threat. I know I am. Because it’s not that I don’t want to do anything, it’s that I’m forcing myself not to. And I don’t want to admit that to myself. So I go and drink scotch in the dark, leaving Newbie happily purring into what his sub-conscious obviously thinks is me.

I don’t know whether I’m being incredibly cowardly or incredibly noble. Or possibly both.

\- - - - -

It’s warm and fuzzy and I feel content and pleased. I reach out, trying to press myself up against him and find nothing. I frown and open my eyes.

I’m in Doctor Cox’s bed. What? When did this happen? Last I remember was him… oh, was him doing that massage thing and me basically turning into some form of liquid in response. God. I blush, sinking back down into the bed as much as possible. Great, so I passed out from that. Very subtle. I’m pretty sure I remember purring like some kind of chainsaw as well.

Which means he must have _carried_ me here. I screw my eyes shut. This is so mortifying. If I was a more stereotypically built omega I might not feel quite so awkward about that. But, as has now been pointed out repeatedly, I’m unusually tall. If I was all petite then someone carrying me might be viewed as romantic, even slightly adorable. As it is, I’m lanky and heavy and utterly graceless. He probably looks like he’s hauling around a particularly stringy deer carcass whenever he does it.

Also, he shouldn’t _have_ to do it. I’m not his concern, no matter how much his alpha biology probably tells him otherwise. It’s a weird form of hormonal manipulation.

I really hope Elliot’s old professor has some ideas of what the hell I can do. I’m sick of being a burden on him.

I have no idea what the time is, but can see sunlight through the curtains. Elliot may have messaged back by now, but my cell’s still in the sitting room. I get up and stagger through, finding Doctor Cox slumped on the couch, the bottle of scotch mostly empty on the coffee table. I creep around him and retrieve my cell.

Elliot has messaged, saying her professor is free at 1300 and asking if she can come over then. I glance at Doctor Cox and decide not to wake him to ask. It should be fine, he’s as desperate as I am to try and sort this thing out. I message her back, confirming that works. I then shower and get changed into one of the other new outfits that Doctor Cox picked up for me and worry for a while about paying him back.

He’s still asleep when I come back through into the sitting room. I want to make coffee for him, but will inevitably get it wrong and/or break the coffee machine. I leave it and shuffle back through to the bedroom, curling back up on the bed and marinating myself in the smell of pine trees.

Unfortunately after about half an hour of dozing I’m abruptly woken up by the ridiculous insatiable hunger again and growl to myself. This is ridiculous, I ate more than I usually would in a week yesterday. My stomach ignores this point and flatly informs me to go eat. I had been trying to ignore the painful pangs of hunger before, but having given in to it once it seems a lot harder to deny now. I grunt, scrabble back up and go through to the kitchen, slinking past Doctor Cox and looking in the fridge. There’s no leftover pizza; I ate the rest of it when I was watching that movie, Doctor Cox looking mildly perturbed by my continued gluttony. There’s bacon and eggs though. I stare at them blankly.

I’m a terrible cook. I’d love to be able to say that’s intentional, that I rebelled against the idea that omegas are homemakers. But it’s not the case, I’m just an awful cook. I can’t iron stuff either and the less said about my ability to keep anything tidy the better. I’m _organised_ , but I’m not tidy. I close the fridge, feeling forlorn. As was pointed out to me repeatedly after I presented, I don’t fit the omega stereotype at all. I’m not even very good with kids. I like them, but I'm not a natural and I'd definitely have no form of parental authority. If I had a kid I’d probably accidentally leave it in a shop somewhere after getting distracted by a light show or something.

I sigh. Stuff like this doesn’t normally bother me, but normally I can tell myself that it doesn’t matter. But right now I’m essentially relying on an alpha – an unrelated alpha at that – to do everything for me. I can’t even feed myself. Or I could try, but then I’d wake him up with the sound of the fire alarm and smell of burning bacon. I think he’d prefer I not try.

I find a family sized bag of chips in the cupboard and sit and eat that whilst drinking some OJ and wondering how long I can leave it before I wake him up. It’s already 1100. And I want bacon…

Also, he’s fallen asleep essentially sitting upright and that must hurt his back, right? I wonder if I should offer to give him a massage, since he basically forced one on me yesterday and he actually has a valid medical complaint, however much he pretends he doesn’t. I’m not sure why he pretends that he doesn’t have a bad back, maybe it’s some kind of alpha pride thing to claim you have no imperfections.

I’ve slunk over to him whilst I’ve been considering this, still absently eating the chips and looking at him thoughtfully. He’s not shaved for the last couple days and – I get a spike of envy – has already got a scruff of a beard from that. He’s frowning slightly in his sleep, apparently even capable of looking mildly pissed off whilst he’s unconscious.

I tense, realizing that I’m… oh, for fuck’s sake. I’m giving off mating pheromones, Jesus. Stop gazing at him rapturously and think about something else. Stop imagining what that scruff would feel against my neck and and… argh, stop it.

I stalk back into the kitchen and drink a load of chilled water, trying to drown the stupid arousal. I glance back at him, pouring another glass of water. If he’s been drinking scotch last night he’s probably dehydrated. I sniff at myself, checking I’m no longer giving him biological ques for him to mount me. Good, I’ve stopped that. I really need to keep a check on myself, I used to be able to control this but I haven’t had to do it in so long that I’ve lost the knack. It’s not overly surprising, it’s the biological equivalent of having no filter when I’m talking, which seems about right for me.

I walk over to him, sitting on the coffee table in front of him and putting the glass of water down next to me. He doesn’t stir so I sigh and reach over, gently shaking him by the shoulder. His eyelids flicker and he gives me a tired look.

“Sorry.” I tell him, feeling a stab of sympathy at how exhausted he looks.

He grunts slightly, then stretches, flinching as he does so. “Hey Newbie.”

“Hey.” I proffer the water to him, which he takes and drains in one go. “Sorry again, just Elliot should be here in about an hour and I thought you’d probably want to-“

“Wazza time?”

“Midday.”

He gives me a horrified look. “Seriously?”

“Um, yeah.”

He hauls himself upright and staggers before heading off to the bathroom. I partially want to yell after him to please come back and feed me, but realize how pathetic that is. I take the slightly less pathetic option of messaging Elliot and asking her to bring some coffee and pastries with her if she can stop on the way.

\- - - - -

Elliot arrives at 12:45 with a bag of croissants that I immediate fixate on until she gives them to me. I carefully put one aside for her and one for Doctor Cox and then try to eat the rest before anyone notices, which obviously fails since she’s literally sat there watching me with a bemused expression. She then asks the same question that Doctor Cox asked about whether I could be pregnant. I don’t bother with the second coming of Christ joke and just say “no” with my mouth full of flaky croissant goodness.

Feeling I should probably be slightly less weird, I ask her about her “accidentally” letting slip to the others that we were back together and she shrugs. “They were all telling me what a horrible idea it was.”

“Yeah, I got that too.”

“I feel we should both be pretty offended by that. Carla even came over to my place this morning, I think trying to catch one or the other of us to point out in detail what a bad idea it was.”

I roll my eyes. “Great. What did you say?”

“I said you were still in bed and to leave us alone.”

“Bet she took that well.”

“Yeah, about as well as you'd expect. I think she hung around for a bit outside as well. I had to make Keith stay in my apartment so she didn't see him leaving - God knows what she'd think we'd all been up to.”

I try not to have any mental image around that and check the time. I then set the iPad up on the kitchen bar so we can both sit on the stools and talk to her old professor. “What’s this guy’s name?”

“Professor Gillespie. He’s a nice guy. Also, where’s Doctor Cox?”

“Shower.”

I’m not really sure what he’s doing in there and am hoping he re-emerges before we start speaking with Gillespie, since he’ll likely want to hear what’s being discussed. Fortunately as I think that he strolls out of the bathroom, grunts some sort of greeting at Elliot and then sprawls back onto the couch. We both glance over at him and Elliot takes him one of the coffees, which he accepts with his usual total lack of gratitude.

“Are you going to stay there while we talk to this Gillespie guy?” I call out to him.

“Yeah… I figure having to explain me will just complicate matters.”

That’s actually surprisingly considerate, particularly since he’s essentially been trying to be in control of everything this whole time. I’d think that was a kind of nice gesture on his part, but I’m pretty sure he’s actually just really hungover and trying not to show it. His iron control of his pheromones seems to have slipped, which reinforces my suspicion he’s just feeling like shit currently. 

Elliot sets the call up. As it’s ringing she mutters: “Okay, let me explain what happened, I’ve come up with a story about it.”

I’m immediately terrified, since Elliot really is terrible at lying and not hugely imaginative. I give her a worried side glance, which she ignores, so I do it at Doctor Cox instead. He returns the worried glance, sitting up to watch over the couch with a wince. I'm unexpectedly hit with a very mild pain scent from him; yeah, his back hurts.

Gillespie picks up the call. He's not what I'd expected from Elliot's various "old professor" comments; I'd been prepared for some enormously bearded guy with glasses and a stuffed shirt attitude who would likely lecture me for an hour on my own biology. Gillespie looks to be in his early 40s with graying curly dark hair, a pleasant, intelligent sort of face and an odd fashion sense, wearing a 'professor style' tweed jacket complete with elbow patches over what appears to be a band T shirt. He looks like he’s probably beta. He's also slumped back in an office chair, a cup of coffee at his elbow and a slight smile on his face at the sight of Elliot.

“Hi Professor!” Elliot chirps at him. I wave at him awkwardly.

“Hello Elliot. You really don’t need to call me that any more, you know.” His reply is dry, although he seems amused.

“Yeah, I still call my father ‘sir’, don’t try and mess up how I categorize anyone in my life… this is JD.”

“Hey.” I wave awkwardly again.

“Hi JD.” He’s looking at me with interest and I resist the urge to scream that I’m not some fascinating specimen and can he please stop looking at me like I’m the goddamn missing link. I retaliate by staring at his band T shirt critically, which he seems to not be remotely disconcerted by.

“So, you can see that JD’s a dominant omega,” Elliot states, rather obviously since I can see my eyes practically glowing in the self view panel in the corner of the chat window. “He’s been having some problems and asked if I knew anyone who could help.”

Gillespie nods. “What’s the problem?”

“My inhibitors aren’t working.”

Elliot gives me an annoyed glance. “Well, there’s a backstory to it that I think we should tell Professor Gillespie first-“

“Hang on, Elliot. Let me just get the facts first.”

I have a distinct feeling that Gillespie knows that Elliot’s 'backstory' is slightly fictitious. I frown at him. “How many omegas do you get requests for help from like this?”

“A fair few. They all have ‘backstories’ too, so let’s just initially go through what’s happening with you.”

Yeah, so he definitely knows Elliot’s going to lie. Great. I sigh. “I’ve been on hydreastarneite and rhysolxin cypionate since I’ve been 17 and had my first heat. And they’ve worked fine and I’ve not come off them since.”

I wait for the inevitable telling-off about not breaking from them. It doesn’t come and I lift my eyebrows at Gillespie. “Aren’t you going to tell me that was dangerous and damaging to my health or something?”

“No. It isn’t.”

I stare at him blankly. “Well, you’re the first person who’s said that.”

He rolls his eyes. “Look, the whole idea of breaking from inhibitors is set up by the alpha pressure groups on the pharmaceutical companies. They don’t like the ideas of omegas not being tied to their heats and seem to think that they’ll stop taking inhibitors if they stop for a brief period. It’s complete bullshit, you could be on inhibitors your entire life and it wouldn’t impact your health, unless you built up some sort of immunity or intolerance to the drug.”

“Oh.” I blink. “That’s good to know. Well, anyway, they were working fine and nobody knew I was an omega. Then I ended up in a situation where – uh…” I look at Elliot, who’s staring at me pointedly. She immediately launches into what is clearly a rehearsed story, her voice slightly weird and robotic as she recounts it, like a child reading from a book aloud.

“There was an accident and a dominant omega was badly injured. JD knows some first aid and went to help and the omega’s blood and pheromones ended up all over him. There were a load of alphas around as well, none of them doing anything useful and just secreting pheromones. The omega died on him when he was trying to save her and… and it made your inhibitors stop working, right?”

I stop staring at her in horror (if she was there why on earth would she allow an apparent beta who 'knew first aid' deal with an omega rather than taking charge herself?) and sigh. “So, I’m guessing the combination on omega blood and pheromones and shit and the trauma of her dying and all the alphas overwhelmed the inhibitors.”

Gillespie’s looking as unconvinced as I was by Elliot’s story, but thankfully seems to decide to let it slip. “Well, that’s very likely. I’m guessing you’re not accustomed to being exposed to dominant omegas if you’re living as a beta?”

I nod. “I've hardly ever even met a dominant omega, I didn't go to an omega school. I sometimes spend time around recessive ones...”

“Recessive omegas wouldn't have the same impact. So yes, just being exposed to omega blood and pheromones from a very distressed dominant omega - particularly if you've had very little interaction with any others during your life - would have probably overwhelmed the inhibitors in your bloodstream. The alphas are largely irrelevant, to be honest. Although they likely would have started picking up on your pheromones as well.”

“I got out of the way before I started to look omega.”

Gillespie shakes his head. “You’d have been producing pheromones before any other visible sign of the inhibitors failing. Probably for some time beforehand, it would be very likely that as soon as you smelt the distress from the other dominant omega you’d have started to produce them, although probably faintly at first. It’s unfortunately a flaw in the inhibitors, something about omega distress pheromones seem to render them useless. I think it’s probably the dominant omega response to protect other dominant omegas.”

“Do we have that?”

“Yes. It’s not talked about as much as alphas protecting omegas, but it does happen. The more dominant an omega is the more likely they are to be driven to protect other omegas. Part of that is burning out inhibitors for some reason, likely so they can produce venom.”

I frown, remembering the protective urge I had around Iolite when she seemed upset. “Okay, well, yeah. That's possible I guess, apparently I'm pretty dominant. Anyway, the alphas all went crazy, but I assumed that they were just reacting to the girl dying. I went omega, nearly went into heat but got more inhibitors. But they stopped working properly.”

“How?” His voice is sharp, different from his previous contemplative, relaxed way of speaking.

“Well, initially they just… didn’t last as long. The hydreastarneite usually lasts two weeks and I only needed one rhysolxin cypionate tablet a day, but I started to show as omega quicker and so needed to take more. I ended up on nearly two tablets a day and then the hydreastarneite still needed to be injected more frequently.”

“So, this was gradual? You didn’t immediately reject the drugs?”

“Yeah, gradual. I did eventually start to throw the rhysolxin cypionate up and the hydreastarneite made me collapse and feel like shit afterwards. So I went to a heat clinic, thinking maybe I could reset it, that I’d just been on inhibitors without a break for too long. And that sort of seemed to work, the inhibitors lasted two weeks again and it was fine for four weeks. And then… they just stopped working. Completely.”

“You went into critical rejection?” At my confused expression he adds “Threw them up, sweated any remaining out, cramping, pain?”

“Yeah.”

Gillespie’s frowning. “You’re on a strong form of inhibitors, albeit there are more recently developed ones that would likely work better. And you don’t have an intolerance or immunity.”

“How do you know that?”

He flaps a hand absently. “There’s no gradual process when that happens. They just fail and you usually get a load of other side effects. The fact they worked again for a while after heat demonstrates that as well.”

“His scent gland looks weird too,” Elliot supplies.

“Is it inflamed?”

“Yeah.”

“JD, I can’t see any mating bond. And you mentioned going to a heat clinic, so I’m assuming that you don’t have an alpha?”

“Just a member of my family. I’m unmated.”

“Well, that’s… unusual. But not unheard of. But there is an alpha around you?”

I bite my lip, glancing at Doctor Cox, who’s observing the conversation closely, out of Gillespie’s sight. “I have a friend helping me out, yeah.”

“Was this alpha around when you treated the dying omega?”

I notice his language and assume he’s guessed I’m a doctor, but don’t raise it. “Yeah. Does that mean anything?”

“I’ve got an idea of what could be causing the issue. But I need you to be more detailed about what happened with the omega. _Not_ details of why you were there and what you were doing and why Elliot wasn’t treating her, I don’t want to know anything that I end up worrying about…” He scrubs a hand over his eyes, before giving Elliot a rather tired look and then glancing back at me. “But about what else was happening.”

I stare at him blankly, no idea what he wants to know. “What do you mean?”

“There’ll have been some other things going on that you maybe weren’t focusing on, considering what was happening. But you would have been _aware_ of it, what else happened?”

I continue to stare at him blankly. I’m horribly reminded of my math teacher at high school trying to get me to answer a trigonometry question, looking at me encouragingly and prompting “so the value of cos is…?” and my staring at him in confusion and eventually blurting out “eleventy” in a desperate bid to stop him looking at me like that.

“The alphas, JD,” Elliot nudges me. I frown at her.

“I thought the alphas were irrelevant?”

Gillespie explains: “The alphas are irrelevant as to why the inhibitors stopped working initially. That was the omega. But potentially they aren’t irrelevant to what happened later.”

“Um. Well, they started to get… you know, angry, snappy. Some of them started to fight. One of them knocked me over, but he definitely wasn’t aware I was an omega, he was going for me.”

“But he’s recessive, JD,” Elliot points out to me. “If the pheromones were faint then the To- then _he_ likely wouldn’t have picked up on them.”

“Did that frighten you?” Gillespie asks. I shrug.

“It mainly annoyed me, but I guess, yeah, probably a bit.”

“So, to clarify; at this point you were likely releasing your own pheromones faintly, on top of which you were likely distressed and scared?”

“I guess? It would have been really faint though, that was all within about five minutes.”

“Even if it was faint then any dominant alpha nearby could have potentially picked that up, although very likely not aware that the pheromones were coming from you.”

“Oh God.” Elliot’s gone pale. I frown at her.

“What?”

She’s staring back at me, a queasy expression on her face. “Sanders, JD.”

I blink. “What about him…?” I have a horrible feeling I know where she’s going with this. We’d assumed he’d tried to charge me to get at Amber, but I guess she thinks he might have picked up on my pheromones. But, actually, no, it’s fine, Doctor Cox stopped him. I shake my head and smile at her.

“Nah, Sanders didn’t get anywhere near me. He was stopped.”

She’s gone even paler and is shaking her head. Then she looks back at Gillespie and speaks in a horrible, deadpan voice with no inflection.

“Professor Gillespie, assuming JD was releasing those pheromones and two very dominant alphas picked up on them and _fought_ , what would that cause?”

What? I stare back at Gillespie, who’s frowning slightly. “That would depend. Did one of them clearly dominate the other?”

“Yeah, he threw him into a wall. Pretty sure he snarled at him too.”

Did he? I missed that, I just knew that Doctor Cox had stopped him, although thinking back to it I’m not entirely sure how I knew that, I just was aware of it. Gillespie’s watching me thoughtfully and then seems to very carefully phrase what he says next:

“JD, the alpha who stopped the other alpha; do you know him well? Already have a relationship with him?”

“I…I…” I throw a helpless look at Doctor Cox, who’s looking as utterly confused as I’m feeling. I thought this was about something going screwy with me, why are they dragging him into this?

“Yes, he does.” Elliot says in the same horrible flat voice. “They’re pretty close, not that the alpha acknowledges that.”

“And is this the alpha that you mentioned was helping you?”

“Uh, yeah, he is, but he literally only found out I was an omega that day.”

“But he’s been trying to help, right? Looking out for you, being around you? Trying to protect you?”

“Well, yeah, kinda, but-“

“And, let me just assume a couple more things. You’ve been increasingly disliking having other alphas around you, particularly dominant alphas? You don’t like how they smell, even in your heat. And you’re attracted to this particular alpha and that’s potentially increasing?”

I’m blushing, incredibly embarrassed that Doctor Cox is hearing this. “Look, yeah, I’ve had omega crushes on some alphas before but they don’t mean anything-“

I suddenly think of Greg pointing out to me that omega crushes are just crushes and not separate from me.

“Shit,” says Elliot. I look between her and Gillespie, both of whom appear to be sharing some sort of understanding.

“Do you mind telling me what the hell it is you’re both clearly thinking?” I growl.

“So…” Elliot is giving me a frightened look and then glances at Doctor Cox as well. “There’s this… well, it’s not a theory per se, but it’s not been observed much because, as you know, most dominant omegas get sold off and bonded before they even reach sexual maturity… But it might not be the case with this, just…”

She trails off and looks at Gillespie hopefully. He shrugs back at her and then turns to directly face me.

“I’d theorize that, whilst in a very stressful situation, you released dominant omega pheromones that two dominant alphas nearby reacted to. One alpha dominated the other and… well, there’s not really any easy way to explain this. Your body accepted that alpha as a bond partner.”

I stare at him. “What?”

“It’s not well-heard of because, as Elliot said, most omegas barely get to meet alphas until they bond. You’re in a different situation, having been living as a beta so long. It’s essentially like… well, like two bidders in an auction and you… well, you accepted the bid from one of them. Him beating another alpha would have heightened this acceptance, but if you already had a pre-existent relationship with him then that makes it quite likely. It likely equals biological and personal compatibility.”

I look at them both. “No.”

“I know it sounds strange, JD, but it’s-“

“No. Absolutely not.” I look at Gillespie desperately. I feel like my stomach’s in an elevator and just went to the basement, leaving the rest of my body on the fourth floor. “You’re… what, you’re saying _my body_ has decided for me?”

“Well, like I said, there’ll be a strong personal connection as well, it's not just your body deciding for you.”

I blink. “What? Also, just _what_? Bonds don’t work like that, omegas don’t just decide they want to bond with an alpha, it’s a mutual thing. Or it’s supposed to be, anyway.”

“I'm saying it’s a mutual thing. Like I said, the alpha ‘put in a bid’, if we continue with the auction analogy. You accepted the bid. I’d also theorize that the alpha is having similar reactions although they’d be harder to spot. If the alpha was exposed to dominant omegas then he probably would dislike the smell of them, although there’s so few that’s unlikely to be picked up on. And he’d likely to be driven to be around you and likely want physical contact with you.”

“No,” I’m shaking my head again, ignoring a horrible memory of Doctor Cox telling me that Iolite’s scent was somehow wrong and put him on edge.

“Listen, JD-“

“No,” I’m violently shaking my head, not even daring to look at Doctor Cox, hating to think how disgusted he’s likely to look at all this. So, not only does he have to put up with me being around, him just trying to stop Sanders from flattening me and/or possibly trying to have sex with me means that I’m – that I’m –

I drop my head into my hands, feeling Elliot put a hand on my back gently. Gillespie continues:

“JD, I think it’s highly likely that this is the case. Both you and the alpha that you’re… friends with… have forged a biological connection. The inhibitors are failing because your body is preparing itself for bonding and will repeatedly reject inhibitors in this state. The more you’re in the company of this alpha, the likely quicker your body will reject the inhibitors. You may actually cause significant damage to yourself if you continue trying to take them whilst unbonded. I’d also note that both you and the alpha, if remaining unbonded, will become increasingly… disturbed.”

I pull my head out of my hands and glare at him. “This is ridiculous. We haven’t… I’m not even mated and, what, now I _have_ to bond?”

Gillespie opens his mouth to reply and I interrupt. “Hang on, is this just a mating thing? What if I just mate with someone? Will that stop it? Or… or… if I have to bond does it matter who I bond to?”

I’m rambling. Gillespie sighs. “You’d have difficulty mating with anyone who is not this alpha, considering that you’ll likely reject advances from other alphas in this state. If you mated with this particular alpha then possibly you could return to taking the inhibitors, but… well, you’d likely still eventually hit the same scenario over time. That _may_ work though, your body wants this alpha essentially and mating may stabilize that, particularly if… well, if it’s unprotected, because that’s the closest to venom and your blood stream will absorb the pheromones. And yes, any bond would then stop this state, but I’d strongly counsel against bonding with any other alpha, it would likely be extremely distressing for you.”

And now I can’t even be sold? What the hell? And did he basically just say that semen is like venom? I drop my head back into my hands and then, feeling this doesn’t adequately express how I’m feeling, collapse against the bar. I bite my lip hard, twisting my mouth slightly to use my stupidly sharp canines, breaking the skin, screwing my eyes shut, choking down the urge to start sobbing. Why? Why the hell is this happening, why? He’s going to _hate_ me for putting him in this position. I hate this, I hate myself, I _hate_ this so much.

There’s silence for a minute or so, before I hear Doctor Cox, sounding incredibly stilted, finally speak.

“Turn that off, Barbie. He’s too upset to talk any more.”

He hates me so much.

\- - - - -

Newbie reeks of despair. I didn’t even know that despair had a scent, but I know what it is now. I can’t exactly blame him, if someone told me that I’d essentially accidentally tied myself to a narcissistic, thoughtless old bastard with an alcohol problem and a bad back and had to – at a minimum – have sex with him, but potentially basically marry him to have any decent quality of life any more then I’d probably be sprawled across a bar table in abject misery as well. He also smells like blood, which is concerning.

Barbie is still sat patting his back awkwardly, in a weird mirror image of her terrible bedside manner. She keeps glancing at me. I don’t really know what she wants me to do and shrug at her. She stares back at me and mouths “comfort him” at me.

I widen my eyes back at her and then mouth “comfort him?!”

She glares at me and nods. I roll my eyes back. She glares. I eye roll. She glares. I inhale, annoyed, and get another whack of omega blood and then frown.

“Newbie, what part of you is bleeding?” I ask tiredly.

“My lip.” His voice is trembling again, worse than before.

“Fuck’s sake, Newbie.”

“I was trying to poison myself with my own venom.”

“Well, that’s failed.”

He sits up suddenly, refusing to look at either myself or Barbie. His lip is actually bleeding pretty profusely. He stares at the table in front of him for a moment, then abruptly goes slightly green, staggers upright and then essentially runs into the bathroom. A few moments later I hear him retching. Barbie and I both turn our heads towards it and then glance at one another.

“That often happens at the idea of sex or a committed relationship with me,” I inform her.

“Was Professor Gillespie right? Are you… do omegas smell weird to you? Do you…?” She trails off, apparently not feeling brave enough to ask if I’m attracted to him. Which seems weird to me, since she basically said to Gillespie earlier that I pretended not to be. Which was totally accurate, dammit.

“I’m pretty sure he’s right, Barbie. I’m pretty sure JD knows that too, he just doesn’t want it to be the case.”

“Can you blame him?”

“No, Elliot, I really can’t blame him.” Shit, I just slipped and called her Elliot again, but honestly, I feel tired and like shit. I spent most of last night drinking myself incapable of movement so I wouldn’t go and bother Newbie and now I’ve literally just watched him essentially collapse and then puke at the idea of being with me. It’s not exactly encouraging and I’m feeling pretty miserable about the whole thing. I lean my head against the couch and stare back at her balefully. “Believe me, I’m well aware that he doesn’t want this.”

She frowns at me. “Weren’t you listening to Professor Gillespie? He wants it too-“

“No, Barbie, JD wants a mentor or a… oh, I don’t know, some sort of superhero or something, not me as I actually _am_.”

“I… I’m not sure that’s the case. I’m pretty sure he’s scared and thinks-“

I shake my head and sigh, sprawling back down the couch and staring at the ceiling. She tries to engage me a couple more times and I ignore her. I hear her let out an irritated breath and then go knock on the bathroom door and slip inside. She’s there for a depressing length of time and I imagine is consoling Newbie and/or trying to stop him from slitting his own wrists.

Dammit. I knew I was feeling slightly more protective of him than previously, but I’d assumed that was just the shock of finding out he was omega. Honestly, the attraction and the urge to be close to him _weren’t_ new, they’ve been there since I met him. Sure, they’ve been harder to ignore recently, but I’ve been spending a lot more time with him lately. And yeah, okay, him as an omega is actually ridiculously attractive for me, but… but not because he’s omega. The first time I saw him like that, even when his eyes were in that weird early stage where they’re too light, I just thought “hey, you look more like you now”. Not “that’s so omega, I want to fuck you”.

Fuck, I thought he was beautiful when I damn well met him and reacted by being an utter asshole because – oh, because I’m me and that’s what I do when I like someone. Oh, fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck _fuck_. And I know he thinks I'm only interested since I found out he was omega, it's his whole obsession about the damn pheromones being the only attractive thing about him and the only reason anyone would be interested, he damn well _said_ as much to me in the bar. Claiming he'd never know whether someone was only interested just because he was omega. Dammit, if I’d tried to screw him when I thought he was a beta then neither of us would be in this shitty situation, why the hell didn’t I just do that?

_Because you were scared that he’d say no and then you wouldn’t get to see him any more so you didn’t even have the stones to try?_

Oh, shut up.

I hear Barbie open the bathroom door and loll my head back to look at her. “Is he suicidal?”

She frowns at me. “He’s upset.”

“Obviously,” I drawl back.

She walks over to me, her forehead wrinkled. “What are you planning on doing?”

I shrug. I’ve been too terrified to even consider that actually. She narrows her eyes.

“Are you going to have sex with him?”

I roll my eyes. “Jesus, Barbie…”

“Well, are you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want to?”

I glare at her. “None of your goddamn business.”

“Well, that answers _that_.” She moves closer. “Be kind to him.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, yeah, Barbie, whatever.”

“I _mean_ it, you asshole. You think I’m happy about this? About… about you and him? He doesn’t deserve that. I get why he didn’t tell me, I even get why he acted the way he did now. It seems totally unfair that he ends up hitched to you.”

“Life’s not fair.” God, I wish she’d just shut up. What, is she expecting me to suddenly become Mr Nice Guy? Pledge my undying affection to Newbie? Tell her I’ll… what, be _gentle_ with him or something? Jesus, doesn’t she know me by now?

“I’ve noticed,” she snaps at me.

I close my eyes. “Whatever.”

“You remember when JD’s dad died and I tried to get you to hug him? You remember what you asked me?”

I open my eyes and blink at her, confused by the sudden change in topic. “Vaguely.”

“You asked me what he was like in the sack.” She suddenly leans close to me and whispers in my ear. “He’s _awesome_.”

She turns on her heel and walks out as I freeze and then whimper softly to myself. She smirks back at me from the door. “Be kind to him.”

She leaves.

\- - - - -

Once I feel less likely that my legs will collapse under me I sit up from the couch and sigh.

“Hey, Newbie? You planning on coming out of there any time soon?”

“… No…”

Right, fine, he’s hiding in the bathroom for now then. I grunt and then, for want of anything else to do, go and dice some vegetables and start to cook pasta. Considering he’s essentially constantly hungry and just threw up whatever he ate today then he presumably will be-

I drop my head into my hands. Shit. I’m fucking _courting_ him, aren’t I? Although I guess I wouldn’t have necessarily noticed, no alpha has courted an omega in God knows how long, the whole process gets skipped generally. But dammit, I am, I’m even demonstrating I can provide for him. _Hey look, Newbie, I made pasta, let me bite you now_. For fuck’s sake, it’s so goddamn moronic…

And shit, he's doing it right back. Omegas court alphas too, they bring them things. Little gifts to show that their interest is reciprocated. I read once that they tended to be things that the omegas found pretty or interesting, but Newbie being Newbie and a selfless little bastard has been bringing me things he thinks I'll like. Scotch and decanters and books. Presumably he has at some point had the urge to bring me some girly unicorn figurine or something that he finds appealing and been utterly bemused by it.

I stare at the pasta and then sigh and carry on cooking it. Seems kind of pointless to stop now anyway and he’ll be hungry, assuming he ever actually vacates the bathroom. I finish making it and then dish up two plates and stare at it.

“Hey, Newbie, you hungry?”

“… No…”

“Stop lying, you’re always hungry. I made food.”

I’ve ended up standing outside the door, calling in to him. I don’t remember actually walking here, but what the hell, apparently I’m not in any control of myself any more anyway.

“C’mon Newbie. You can’t stay in there forever.”

There’s a pause where he apparently considers this. Then he door unlocks and he’s already out and not looking at me, apparently trying to collect all of his belongings, the strong scent of toothpaste and mouthwash following him. I watch him for a moment.

“What are you doing?”

“Leaving.”

I sigh. “No you aren’t, Newbie.”

“Yes I am. I’m going to Ohio.”

“Really? How?”

“On an airplane, how’d you think?”

God, I feel like a bastard pointing this out, but… “You can’t buy a ticket without a responsible alpha. You know that, Roberta.”

He stops, stiffening. He glances back at me, meeting my eyes for the first time in a long time. I feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach. He’s been crying, the whites of his beautiful sapphire shimmering eyes looking painful and red, the skin around them flushed.

“Newbie, come eat something.”

He shakes his head helplessly and I walk over to him, pulling him against me, uncharacteristically trying to hug him in response to the horrible alpha pain at the sight of him so upset. He hisses and thrashes around, wrenching himself out of my grip. “ _Stop it_ , you heard him, you make it worse.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “This isn’t on me, Newbie.”

“I know. It’s on me.”

“No, it’s not on you either. It’s on both of us. Or biology. Or that jock surgeon moron for attacking you or Sanders. Or, hell, on Amber FitzAlan for skipping around the park when her heat was due.”

“Don’t blame her…”

I sigh. “Alright, Newbie, it’s not on her. But it’s not anyone’s fault, alright? Neither of us planned this.”

He shakes his head and looks like he’s trying not to cry again. “Please, JD, come eat something.”

“You don’t need to look after me. I know you’re… kinda driven to, but you don’t have to. We can ignore it. That’d… that’d be best….”

He trails off, staring into space. He’s in shock, I realize. “C’mon.”

He follows me and sits on one of the bar stools, starting to almost mechanically shovel the pasta into his mouth. Not sure what else to do, I emulate him and we sit and eat in silence together. I try to figure out how to phrase what I know I need to ask and glance over at him, sitting still and staring down at his empty plate.

“So… you… you wanna do this thing?”

He looks up at me, horrified.

\- - - - -

“So… you… you wanna do this thing?”

I stare at him.

“What?”

He shrugs. “Well… it might help, right? Both of us?”

“Are you _serious_? I mean, do you even want to do that?”

“Are you fishing, Newbie? You’ve been able to _smell_ that I want to do that. And I can smell it on you, so don’t be coy.”

“But that’s just… biology.”

“Jesus Christ Newbie, you’re a doctor. Everything’s biology.”

“But it’s not… not…” I don’t even know what I’m trying to say. What I even want to say. Affection? Love? Something meaningful? It just feels horribly… practical.

Great, like I hadn’t cried enough in the goddamn bathroom, sitting and telling myself that I’d caused all this shit, that I’d wrecked everything, that my whole stupid life was over. Now I can feel myself wanting to start sobbing again. Because now… now what? Now I have demeaning sex with my mentor just in the hope that maybe the drugs I’ve been on since I was 17 will start to work again? That I’ve spent so long ignoring any urges to mate and now it’s not even going to be with someone who gives a shit about me? We’ve never even been on a date, he’s barely ever even called me by my name, God, we’ve never even _kissed_ and… and now… now… now _this_?

Why is my life so shit? What did I do to deserve all the crap that’s been heaped on me since I was 15? All I ever wanted to do was help people. Have friends. Have a job I enjoy. Be normal. Hell, I sometimes even imagine being with someone who loves me. Cares about me. For me, not for biology or pheromones or… or any of that shit. Just for me.

Well, that was clearly a load of fairytale shit I told myself that was never going to happen. Nope. I’m going to continue my empty, shitty life, fighting to try and keep what I have left until I lose all hope of that. Then I guess I sell myself. Because it doesn’t matter how “distressing” bonding with someone I don’t know could be – that’s the only way I can help my family if this all goes to shit. It’s the only useful thing I can do.

“It’s not _what_?” He’s looking annoyed, probably because I’ve been sat staring into space and miserably ranting to myself. I glare at him, suddenly finding him hateful.

“It’s… shit. It’s… just, practical and-“

“Well, I’m sorry Princess. Were you expecting the romance of the century?”

It’s like being slapped in the face. No. No, I wasn’t, I wasn’t really expecting anything, but I wasn’t expecting _cruelty_. Although I should have done from him.

“No. No, I wasn’t. I’ve lived life long enough to know that omegas can’t expect romance. Or even kindness.”

“Oh, don’t start that social justice bullshit all over again, Newbie. I’m not in the mood.”

Of course it’s that simple for him. Nobody gives a shit about social justice if they’re not suffering. It must be great to not have to hide, to not constantly live in fear of people finding out what you are and what they could do to you. Even people you think are your friends. Even people like him.

I stand up and stalk away from him, furious. To my annoyance he follows me, grabbing my shoulder and trying to spin me around, clinging onto me when I don’t pivot all the way around to face him.

“What?” I snap at him.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“Oh, nothing’s wrong with me. I love the idea of having sex with my mentor, I love the idea of humiliating myself in the hope that maybe it might make some drugs work that mean everyone I know doesn’t turn on me, I love the idea of being fucked by someone I’ve never even kissed, I love-“

He interrupts me by crushing his lips against mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... CRAIIIIIIG. In a new role, but still basically the same character, although I was a little sad I couldn't let JD call him Craig. (For anyone confused, Gillespie is JD's slightly hipster counsellor in My Caged Performer and the first OC I wrote who I didn't immediately want to submerge in a bath full of battery acid.)
> 
> JD and Doctor Cox are watching Se7en. Only really because John C McGinley plays California in it, but is very difficult to spot since he's usually in a SWAT uniform and has a shaved head. When I was planning out MUT I was actually watching this without realising he was in it and twitched very hard when he said an incredibly Doctor Cox-esque line.
> 
> Incidentally, JD threw up through a combination of sheer shock and also he did actually get some of his own venom into his bloodstream, which was obviously a rather dumb thing to do. It wasn't revulsion, despite what Doctor Cox thought.
> 
> So... I sort of feel bad for JD, because he is very upset about this. But also... heheheheheheheheh. In answer to whether this is "imprinting", which is occasionally used in A/B/O - yes and no. I don't like using the phrase "imprinting" since it makes me think of Twilight and that whole imprinting on a child thing freaked me the hell out. It's also not the one used in some fics where alphas and omegas get tied together as soon as they smell each others' pheromones. The general idea in this fic is that it only occurs when there is *emotional* and physical compatibility, so only happens when both are essentially already very interested in one another in more than just a physical way. It should occur after dating/courting basically and would confirm that they are a strong match. The fighting thing just heightened JD's acceptance of it when it occurred.
> 
> Them being essentially partially bonded is hinted at throughout, but both come up with pretty good reasons for how they're feeling. As this is POV it's not hugely obvious, because the characters themselves don't realise anything. Some examples: JD having a "weird urge" to bring Perry flowers, which he then ignores, Perry's reaction to Iolite (it is very out of character for him to get freaked out for no real reason and so he blames it on pheromones - but noticeably no one else is upset by her pheromones and JD's apparent explanation that it was her being without a guardianship bond made sense), JD rejecting the alpha pheromones during his heat (notice Perry did that with the omega ones during rut too?), all the touchy-feely stuff from Perry and most recently Perry growling at Carla when she was about to touch JD in the body bag. Oh hells yeah everyone, I have been *plotting* and it's been fun dropping them in and then essentially trying to hide them so they don't stand out too much. Treasure hunt!
> 
> In other news, THE KITCHEN'S ON FIRE.


	14. 14. My Mating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for explicit content - if the title didn't give it away. 
> 
> To be very clear, there is no DubCon in this fic. I personally am pretty freaked out by DubCon and it does seem to happen an awful lot in A/B/O. It's Con all the way here, baby.

**My Unorthodox Treatment**

**by RumCove**

**My Mating**

Disclaimer: Scrubs original characters belong to Bill Lawrence and NBC/ABC/Doozer Productions etc. Basically, not owned by me. I own the original characters in this work.

I have to admit, I kissed him to try to shut him up. Little bastard was practically getting hysterical.

I mean, I have been trying to stamp down the urge to do this for a long time as well. But it was mainly to shut him up.

Only now I can feel his soft, full lips flush against mine. Initially he’d snarled at me slightly, our teeth clashing, the kiss aggressive, angry, me holding the back of his head in place as I pressed us together, my eyes screwed shut, working my mouth hard against his. But then he’d made a soft noise into my mouth and then I’d felt his tongue flicker against my lips, teasing, exploratory. I’d relaxed my grip on him, turning my head to return the kiss properly, gently sliding my tongue along his mouth, requesting access.

And now he’s groaning into my mouth and I can feel one of his hands cupping the back of my head as he starts to kiss me back, our tongues tangling, melding, lapping against one another. He surges up against me, flush to me and I wrap an arm around his waist, trying to pull him impossibly closer. I exhale a breath, almost chastely kissing him as I pause for oxygen, before delving into his mouth again, plundering it. I lick along his canines carefully, exploring the razor sharp teeth and feel him return the gesture, his tongue against my fangs.

I pull back, panting for air, staring into his eyes. He looks back at me, dazed, pupils blown, lips slightly swollen, looking almost indecently sexy.

“That better?” I gasp at him. “You’ve kissed me now.”

“Not enough,” he growls back, kissing me again. And, _fuck_ , he’s good at this. He’s moved from pressing closed mouth kisses against my lips to Frenching me again, his tongue entwined with mine, charting out my mouth and lapping hungrily against my teeth. It’s aroused and arousing, aggressive and demanding. I’ve never really imagined what kissing an omega would be like, but I’d probably have assumed it would have been me doing the work, me being the aggressor, minimal response and submissiveness. Not this. This is ridiculously hot and I can already feel my erection pressing against him. He shifts against me, clearly recognizing what he’s feeling.

I pull back with a groan and he whines at me.

“Newbie, seriously, this is not a game you play if you’ve not made your mind up. Do you want to do this?”

“I… I don’t know…”

“You _need_ to know. Once this starts it’ll be real difficult for me to stop and, unless I’m much mistaken, that’s the case for you as well?”

He nods, looking turned on and helpless. I can feel his erection pressed against mine and grit my teeth, resisting the urge to reach down, to squeeze and caress and tease him until he’s sobbing with the pleasure of it.

“I’m not doing this unless you say you want it, JD. I can’t. I don’t want us to get into such a state we just fuck one another stupid and then regret it later.”

He leans against me, panting softly. “How am I supposed to know? I’ve never done this before, I don’t know…”

“Neither have I. Not with an omega, I’ve never knotted anyone, alright?”

“I… I…”

“It’s pretty simple, do you want to?”

“Yeah…”

“And I want to.”

“It’s not the same for you. You don’t get… you’re not as vulnerable as… it’ll hurt…”

I wrap a hand around his neck and stroke a thumb across his scent gland, making him shiver against me. “You’re not vulnerable, that’s bullshit you get told to control you. I’ll try not to hurt you, okay? I’ll be careful.”

He pants, staring into my eyes and I gaze back at him, for once allowing myself just to look at his eyes. They’re glowing more than usual now, iridescent colors flitting over the surface. They're also looking somehow darker than before, like deep ocean caverns that I’ll gladly drown in, not even caring that I’m sinking into the depths. He tilts his head, his eyes dropping down to my mouth and then presses a soft, sweet smooch against my lips.

“Yes,” he breathes against my skin, gently kissing along my cheekbone.

“Yes?” I check, barely daring to breathe.

“Yes,” he confirms, moving back to my lips.

I kiss him furiously, releasing everything I’ve been holding back, keeping one arm wrapped tightly around his waist and dropping the other down, rapidly sliding it under the waistband of his pants and grabbing a handful of his heated, swollen flesh, feeling him spasm against me as I do. I press hard against his mouth, licking, urging, _tasting_ him. And God, he tastes sweet, he tastes fucking delicious.

I stop holding back the pheromones, relax my hold over my body and it’s like resurfacing from a dive, only exhaling rather than inhaling, feeling the pheromones flood out of me. He gasps at the onslaught and then I feel him answer, the air around us rapidly saturating in the mix as we both release any semblance of control.

“Oh God,” I pant, dragging my face away from his, dropping down to his neck, inhaling hard at the smell of him and shuddering in response.

“Don’t… don’t bite,” he grinds out and I shake my head against his throat.

“No. Won’t do that without your permission.”

His hands are tangling in my hair, playing with my curls. “Oh fuck, I want you…”

I grin. I knew the lady doth protest too much before.

“Let’s take it slow, Newb.”

We’re still standing upright, crushed against one another. I glance around, wondering if I should try and move us through to the bedroom or whether it’d be better to stay in here. We should be doing it in front of a roaring fire on a sheepskin rug or something, really. This feels too banal, too mediocre.

Just because I tormented Newbie about expecting romance doesn’t mean I wouldn’t appreciate it myself.

Newbie apparently has his own views on this and abruptly catches hold of me and pulls me on top of him on the sofa, dragging me down pretty effectively since my hand’s still trapped in his pants. Okay, so we’ll do it here. I extract my hand and stroke down his chest with both palms, hitching his T shirt up and caressing the firm, soft skin, groaning at the silky texture, curling a hand around the trapezius muscle at the junction of his shoulder and neck. He’s panting, looking back up at me, eyelids lowered slightly, one hand trailing timidly down my stomach.

I sit back, kneeling over him, and pull my T shirt off. He wriggles backwards slightly, pressing his shoulder blades up against the arm of the couch and gazing at me. I lift an eyebrow.

“See something you like, Newbie?”

I’m pretty sure he just blushed, although he’s so flushed already it’s hard to tell. He squirms backwards more, hooking his elbows behind the arm of the couch and then dragging his T shirt off. Fuck, he’s so pale, the skin creamy and somehow rich-looking, with undertones of pink. I growl at him softly and he responds, a quiet, higher pitched rumbling reply.

“C’mhere.” I murmur to him, wrapping my arms around him and rolling us over, pulling him flat against my chest on top of me. His skin is searing against mine, every inch of me aware of every inch of where we’re touching. I encircle his narrow waist with one arm as he levers himself up onto his elbows, looking down at me, his hair standing upright in crazy spikes, breath heaving.

The pheromones are, weirdly, for once not distracting. We barely need to talk, it’s basically a constant status check, answering calls from one another to confirm that we’re both ready to mate, both aroused, both content. His pheromones have an undercurrent of anxiety, which are automatically making me more tentative, more careful with him.

Considering how much I’ve always hated the idea of being controlled by this shit, it does actually work pretty well in this particular scenario. I’m pretty sure the pheromones blending together are also turning us on more, egging each other on to keep going. Newbie’s apparently abandoned his usual eschewing of omega traits and is alternately growling and purring at me under his breath.

I hook my thumbs down under the waistband of his pants and drag them down, pulling his underwear with it. He makes a quiet, surprised noise in response and then kicks the tangled clothing off and shivers at me. I hesitantly cup his ass, feeling the firm, full globes of his buttocks and moaning at the back of my throat, thrusting up against him. He makes a panicked noise in response and I lean up and kiss him gently, trying to calm him down.

“It’s alright.”

“I’ve not done this before, this is weird.”

He’s shaking and I stop myself from snapping at him that I haven’t either and purposefully force my voice to be calm. “Like I said, Newbie, me neither.”

“No… I mean been with a guy, I’ve not done this…”

Oh. Well… well, yeah, I can’t really say that. “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”

He gives me a surprised look. “You do?”

I roll my eyes. “I’m clearly just more sexually developed than you are, you prissy little bastard.”

“More like you just screw anything that breathes.”

I grin up at him. “That’s what alphas do, Duchess. Anyway, you can view my chequered sexual history as a plus point, since I do actually know what I’m doing right now, while you clearly don’t.”

“You’re the one still wearing clothes.”

“Fair enough.”

I sit up, dislodging him and stand up from the couch, leaving him sprawled there and kick off my pants and underwear, being thankful I wasn’t wearing socks earlier. There’s nothing more unappealing or ridiculous than a naked man in just socks. I turn back to him, about to make some joke about that and then see his expression, eyes enormous, reversing away from me slightly, his gaze fixed on –

Ah, yeah. Alpha cock. I can see how it can be rather disconcerting if you’ve not seen one before. Particularly not one that’s… angry like this.

He’s smelling like a very odd blend of arousal and fear in response.

I kneel down on the floor in front of him, catching his face in one hand, forcing him to look me in the eyes, dragging his gaze away from my admittedly impressive equipment. “It’s fine, JD.”

“Fine?”

“Yeah.”

“Fine?!” He gives a hysterical laugh. “Fine for you, will that thing even _fit_?”

“Alright, Newbie. It’s no bigger than those heat aids you guys use.” I nearly say “that I’ve seen you use”, but I’m not letting him know I watched that. I give him an awkward grin. “Well, not _much_ bigger anyway.”

“Oh my God, you’re proud of that, aren’t you?”

I roll my eyes. “Obviously. I am a guy. And you’re hardly one to talk.”

“What?”

I wrap a hand around his cock and he jumps. I slide a thumb up and gently stroke the head in a circular motion and watch his head fall back and him keen loudly as sticky, hot fluid drools down over my fist immediately. He releases a wave of pheromones in response that I’m pretty sure would completely knock out anyone other than a dominant alpha.

“Well, Countess, I’ve always been told male dominant omegas have tiny cocks. You’re kind of going against the grain, I’d have said you were well hung for a beta, let alone an omega.”

“Oh God…”

If I hadn't already seen him naked on camera I'd probably be slightly more surprised - I'm not just flattering the bastard either. In addition to being damn sizeable, he's somehow... pretty. As a doctor I've seen more genitalia in a year than most people see in a lifetime and there's a trend that neither variety are exactly that aesthetically pleasing. Maybe it's an omega thing, but he's apparently bucking that trend. The skin of his thick, smooth shaft is soft and luxuriant over hot, iron-hard need, his balls pulled up tight against the base, the head velvety and flushed. It's... well, I'd say beautiful, but that's a fucking weird thing to say.

_Beautiful, gorgeous, perfect_ my alpha insists.

He smells ready to mate, he’s constantly dropping pheromonal cues for me to just mount him now, but he’s nervous and I… well, I want to make this last. And I want him to enjoy it, mainly because I’m pretty sure he thinks he’s going to hate it and I do so enjoy proving him wrong. And because I want him to enjoy himself, I want him to be fucking _screaming_ out how much he’s enjoying it.

Also… I want him to want to do it again. I’ve not even started this time and I’m somehow feeling nostalgic for something I’ve not yet done. It makes no sense at all.

I continue fisting his cock and pull him into a sitting position, dragging his legs down to put his feet on the floor and crouching between them, feathering kisses across his chest, lapping and nipping at his nipples, pulling a strangled moan out of him. I kiss down his belly, lathing my tongue across the vulnerable skin, enjoying the taste of him, the slight sheen of sweat on him. He tastes sweet, tastes fresh and vibrant, tastes… well, he tastes like pomegranate. It’s heady and addictive.

I stop stroking his cock, pressing his thighs apart and then drop my mouth down onto him, swallowing him down. He jumps and then makes a soft “oh” of shock to himself, thrusting up into my mouth as I suck hard on him, dancing my tongue across his swollen cock, leaning back to lap hard at the head. And fuck, if I thought his skin tasted good, this tastes like nectar, like syrup, like… like pomegranate molasses, Jesus.

“Oh… oh God, oh Doctor Cox, oh _fuck_.”

I smirk around him and pull back, looking up at him, watching him staring down at me in astonishment. He presumably didn’t think I’d do this. I pointedly hold his gaze and lick up the length of him, slurping obscenely on the head just to make him flush even more. Then I grin at him.

“You should probably call me Perry. Actually, screw that, call me Doctor Cox, that’s turning me on.”

“Oh my God, you’re such an asshole.”

“Good point, Baroness. Let me just get to that.”

I grab his knees, levering them over my shoulders and twisting his body to give me access. He makes an affronted, disbelieving noise when he realizes what I’m about to do and weakly drums his heels against my back. “No… no, you can’t do that, don’t do that. That’s… that’s indecent…”

“Oh, don’t be such a square.”

Fuck, he’s hot and tight and so _so_ wet from the slick. And God, this tastes good too, I’m pressing hard against him, practically drinking him down, feeling his muscles already starting to relax and give me better access. I circle my tongue hard, hearing him make a choked, pleasured noise in response. Worried I might be overloading his senses I switch to hard open mouthed kisses around his entrance, firm swipes of my tongue over him, occasionally spearing into him, eliciting wails of arousal. More slick spills down his thighs in response, my face and stubble sticky with it as I continue to tease and torment and slurp at him.

I should probably find this somehow disgusting, but it’s just making my cock throb and ache. And God, the noises that he’s making are so hot right now. He’s alternating between wailing, keening, purring and occasionally nearly sobbing from the pleasure of it. His hands are clutching at me desperately, pulling at my hair.

I pull back, gulping down air. He’s a mess, hair frankly wild, eyes frantic and the colors of them almost broiling, slick coating his lower body and soaking into the material of the couch, his cock heavily flushed and swollen, pressed firmly against his stomach and leaking profusely all over himself. I probably don’t look much better, drenched in his slick, cock angrily pounding.

“You ready?”

“Ohhhh God…”

“JD?”

He suddenly sits up and then practically throws himself on top of me, my arms suddenly full of shivering, aroused, flushed omega. He’s kissing me hard, trying to push us both down onto the floor. I allow myself to enjoy the sensation for a moment, him surging against me hard, desperately, before I carefully take him by the shoulders and push back at him softly. He looks at me with large confused eyes.

“Not the floor, sweetheart, let’s stay on the couch.”

Sweetheart? Where the hell did that come from? He nods, but stays wrapped around me, straddling me and lightly gyrating against me. I briefly press my nose against his scent gland and frown. He’s releasing bonding pheromones, inviting me to bite him. God, that’s tempting, but he said not to and I know he doesn’t want this. I pull away quickly, feeling a sudden ache in my canines and not wanting to start producing venom.

“C’mon, couch. Or I can’t fuck you and you very strongly smell like you want me to fuck you now.”

He nods again, but doesn’t move. I sigh and drag us both upright, staggering onto my feet and then trying to figure out the best position. He’s nuzzling against my throat, quietly purring at me.

“Stop it, Newbie, trying to focus.”

Right, I’m going to have to spoon him. The easiest way would be to fuck him doggy style, but I want to be able to see his face. He butts more insistently at my neck and I frown at him. “It’s like you’re drunk, JD, what the hell?”

“Not drunk…”

“Right… well, at least you’re talking again.”

He kisses me hard, desperately. I groan back at him and collapse down onto the couch, pulling the small of his back flush to my stomach, his ass against my hips, twisting his head and shoulders so I can keep kissing him back. He scrabbles around, lifting the upper part of his body onto one elbow to keep in the position, curling his legs up slightly. He moves his other arm to rest on my side, gently stroking me in short, teasing curls of his wrist and fingers.

I line myself up with him, pressing the tip of my cock against his ass and sliding a leg between his, levering them open slightly. He makes a soft, frightened noise and tenses, even as I feel slick running down over the head of my cock and hiss to myself.

“Don’t you need to put something on?”

He’s gazing back at me, eyes enormous but lucid again after his oddly overwhelmed actions from a second ago. I shake my head.

“Remember what Gillespie said? That it might work better unprotected? We’ve both had blood tests, Newbie, we’re clean.”

“And I can’t get pregnant? Out of heat, right?”

“No, you can’t.” I kiss him. “No pitter patter of tiny feet for you right now.”

“Ugh.”

“Exactly.”

It’s getting almost painful holding myself in this position as my body constantly screams at me to move, to thrust into him, to bury myself in the hot, welcoming embrace of his body. I shudder and press my forehead against his.

“You want me to do this?”

He nods, closing his eyes and I stroke a hand down his face.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

I wait a second, hoping for a repeat of what I heard over the CCTV from the heat clinic (“fuck me, please fuck me, Doctor Cox”, God, it’s like it’s been burnt into my brain on loop). When it doesn’t come I hint at him: “You want me to fuck you?”

He glares at me. “For God’s sake, yes, how many times do you want me to say it?”

Well, damn, he’s not gracing me with that line in person. Little bastard.

I thrust up into him, wiping the glare off his face. He makes an odd squeaking noise.

Fuck, fuck fuck _fuck_ , it’s better than I’d imagined. I wrap an arm around his waist, anchoring him in place, slowly sliding my cock into him. He’s tensed and trembling slightly, eyes wide. He feels hot, tight and so wet, my cock gliding through the slick. It’s like being enveloped in warm, wet velvet, luxuriant and intoxicating. One of his legs twitches hard and I force myself to pause, gritting my teeth, steeling myself against the urge to thrust hard, to fuck myself into him and open him up. He’s snug around me and what I want to do would probably hurt him. I promised him I’d try not to hurt him and… and he’s staring at me, his eyes huge and slightly scared, but trusting. I don’t want him to lose that look.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” he breathes.

I kiss him, surprised by the force that he kisses back with. He suddenly presses himself back against my cock, sliding down me. I jump and growl against his shoulder, snapping my hips forwards, impaling him further onto me. He wails softly and then groans “oh God, yes”.

Okay, so apparently the kid doesn’t need me to be all that gentle. I moan and then give in to the urges I’ve been quashing, thrusting hard into him as he pushes back against me, burying myself deeply into him, mindlessly screwing him. He cries out and moves against my thrusts, sliding himself against me and spasming around my cock, inching me further into him. He’s producing more slick, I can feel it coating me, easing my way into him.

“Oh _God_ , Newbie.”

I’m fully inside him now, my balls pressed against his ass, his tight hot insides a silken caress over my cock. I groan, trying to kiss him and he snaps his mouth out of the way.

“ _Move_ , dammit, or I’m going to go crazy.”

His voice is tight, strained, husky. I nod at him and then pull back before thrusting into him hard. We both cry out. I growl softly and then start to fuck into him at a steady pace, him meeting each thrust.

“Oh God… oh, fuck, that feels good…”

I snarl my agreement, releasing my anchoring grip on his waist to lift his leg and more vigorously fuck into him. He makes an encouraging noise and I capture his lips in a searing kiss. He kisses me back furiously, twisting smoothly against me to try and press me deeply inside him. I pull apart from him and pant:

“Is it just me or are you enjoying this, kid?”

“Oh, shut up and fuck me,” he growls back, eyes glowing. I grin.

“My pleasure, Newbie.”

God, the feel of him, hot wet silk, unyielding firm muscle, pale flawless skin rocking against me, ocean eyes gleaming, the sweet, alluring scent of him, the siren call of him, the honied pleasure it’s all creating in me. It feels so goddamn right, so perfect, so sexy. We’re joined, tangled with one another, and I don’t know how long we’ve been moving like this together, just that it’s constant, steadfast pleasure, both us panting and moaning when we’re breaking from kissing. I press my nose against his, breathing in his gasps, growling back at him softly as he starts to purr loudly, his movements becoming jerkier and more sporadic. He’s starting to twitch hard around me, jacking my cock deeper into him.

“You getting close?”

He gasps more air down and then gives a yowl before panting back “yeah”.

“Yeah, me too…”

“’m gonna… ‘m gonna…”

Pretty sure he’s trying to tell me that he’s about to orgasm, which I don’t need telling, considering the way he’s spasming around me.

“Come on, Newbie, come for me.”

“Nuh… no, going to… oh, _fuck_.”

His insides have abruptly twitched again hard and I can’t move, he’s somehow drawn me deeper inside him and then securely held me there, the rippling, hot flesh of him _squeezing_.

I have no idea what this is, but is apparently what it takes to trigger a knotting response in me. I yelp slightly, feeling the base of my cock swell abruptly as I knot him and we lock together. I always thought that knotting was a one way thing, not a dual response. I hiss softly, feeling Newbie squirm slightly, still twitching heavily. Then… oh my God, his internal muscles have begin to rhythmically contract around me. I whine in surprise and then groan loudly as a deep stab of pleasure spikes through me, building and inexorably twining through me, layering on top of the steamy arousal that was already edging me over.

He clamps hard around me again and I screw my eyes shut, my grip on his leg tightening and then I’m coming hard into him, pulsing into his warm welcoming depths as he milks my orgasm out of me. Through the screaming, blinding, deafening pleasure I feel him arch against me and then the feeling and smell of him coming in response, painting his belly with his semen as I fill him.

\- - - - -

I’m panting, feeling him holding me softly in place as he groans and shudders against my neck, a weird constant growl running through him, as he scents me. He tries to thrust into me and fails, locked in place, before whimpering and then there’s another hot, wet spurt inside of me.

It should feel gross, should revolt me really, and God, my lower body just feels soaked in both of our releases and that should be foul. But it isn’t, it just feels almost ridiculously good, feels right, makes me shiver with arousal. Also, there’s something empowering about the fact that he seems to essentially be trapped and utterly helpless right now.

“Did you just come again?”

“… Yes…”

“How? You can’t move.”

“You’re… sort of giving me some sort of internal massage. Also, the pheromones…”

He sounds completely overwhelmed and I prop myself back up onto an elbow and kiss him swiftly. He chases my lips when I pull back and then slumps heavily onto me, hooking his chin over my shoulder and gazing at me. It’s like having a massive, slightly stupid dog, albeit one I’ve just had sex with. That’s a really weird analogy, I’m never going to think that again.

“Are you alright?”

He shudders and whines again, closing his eyes and wrapping his arms around me and nuzzling against me. “Yeah…”

“You don’t sound-”

He snaps his eyes open and glares at me. “Well, sorry Newbie, I’m basically trapped inside something that keeps spasming and making me come. It’s an odd sensation, to say the least and I currently feel ridiculously over-sensitized.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

He rolls his eyes. “You don’t need to apologize, you moron, just stop bringing it up.”

He presses his nose back against my neck and starts to absently stroke his hands over my body, making me shiver again.

“You’re very warm.”

“Yeah, I am when I’m not on the inhibitors.”

“’snice.”

His hand dips down lower over my stomach where I came all over myself. I bite my lip, then warn him: “Uh, you may want to avoid that.”

He ignores me, tracing his fingers through the mess I’ve left all over myself and the couch. “Atta boy.”

I roll my eyes, watching him lift his hand back up and examine the sticky residue on it thoughtfully. “You taste amazing, you know that?”

I pull a face at him and then twist my head away when he apparently tries to demonstrate this by putting his fingers into my face. “Ew. Stop it.”

“You don’t want it?”

“Ugh, no. Stop being weird.”

He shrugs and then licks his fingers absently. I kick back at his legs. “Stop doing that, you’re being disgusting.”

“Oh, stop being such a prude, Abby. If we did everything your way then we would have just had quick efficient German sex and you wouldn’t have been wailing from me rimming you.”

I blush. “Shut up.”

He smirks at me. “I know you enjoyed that.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re a dirty girl really.”

I intentionally clamp around his cock and he whines, grips me tightly, then growls and comes again. I lift an eyebrow at him. “You really shouldn’t antagonize me when we’re stuck together like this.”

“Joke’s on you, Lucy,” he growls back. “Every time I orgasm delays the time it takes for the knot to go down. You’re just keeping us stuck like this.”

I shrug. “Seems to bother you a lot more than it bothers me.”

He pulls me closer against him and nuzzles into my neck again, wrapping his arms and legs around me. I relax back against him, twisting one of my feet behind his calf and reaching around behind me to stroke his back, dropping my hand down further to grope his ass, squeezing the firm, well-defined muscle there.

“Hm. Enjoying that, Pumpkin?”

I grin at him and he scoffs. “Little lech.”

“This isn’t as uncomfortable as I thought it would be,” I tell him. He snuggles up against me tighter and kisses my scent gland, apparently not particularly in the mood to talk. He inhales deeply again.

“I enjoyed that.” I murmur, surprised to be saying it. And I did. I really, _really_ enjoyed that. It was a bit weird and I’m feeling slightly sore and not overly happy about having a large doctor essentially locked inside me, but ignoring those factors, I really enjoyed that. Initially there was some pain and I think that I probably would have been more bothered by that had I not been completely overwhelmed by the pheromones that seemed to have gone into overdrive at my finally doing what they've wanted me to do for so long. Instead, I'd moved on instinct, relaxing, twisting against him and just doing what came naturally. And then I'd forgotten about the pain when he first hit my prostate, that place that then made it feel like my entire nervous system was suddenly afire with pleasure, spiking through me, intense, mind-blowing. Then he'd seemed to manage to hit it with every stroke and I honestly thought the sensory overload would make me lose my mind. Let alone how intense it felt to just finally experience the sensation of being filled and the _rightness_ that I seemed to have been craving ever since I presented.

And - somehow most importantly - it didn’t feel demeaning. In fact, he seemed to be as desperate or even slightly more desperate than me. He definitely does now, he’s almost continually snuffling at my neck.

“Are you listening?” I snap at him, annoyed. “What are you doing?”

“You smell different.”

“Well, I guess I don’t smell unmated any more.”

“No… you don’t smell like pomegranate any more. Or not just like that, you smell… like that and pine.”

“Oh.” I sniff at him briefly. “You smell the same as you did before.”

“My pheromones are in your blood stream,” he thrusts slightly to prove the point and then flinches. When he next speaks he sounds strained, apparently having forgotten that he was temporarily locked there. “This is probably a good sign, might be stabilizing you.”

“Hm. Maybe, but it won’t stay like that.”

“No…” he growls softly against my neck and then pulls away, looking into my eyes. “Not against giving you a regular top up though.”

I roll my eyes. “How generous of you.”

He grins, then softly kisses me. “Just like giving you your shot, right?” He lifts his eyebrows. “All above board, Newbie, just being your concerned doctor.”

“It’s a very unorthodox treatment of a patient, Doctor Cox.”

“Entirely altruistic, Newbie.”

“Ignoring the fact you just came… what? Three times?” I watch his eyes cloud over briefly and feel a hot, tingling sensation spreading inside me again. “Seriously, four times?”

“That was just an aftershock.”

“Hm.”

“I’m pioneering a new and highly original way of treating omega inhibitor rejection.”

He closes his eyes and presses his nose and lips against my throat, groaning softly and settling back down against the couch.

“Are you going to sleep?”

“Mmhmm.”

He actually just seems to be dozing, a soft rumbling growl running through him as he does so, occasionally nuzzling against me, going into some weird satisfied alpha coma. I’d find it annoying, only he’s just released a load of relaxing pheromones and I’m sprawled back against him, baring my throat for him to nuzzle at, purring happily. It’s warm and comfy and intimate, lulling me into an almost insensate state, barely aware of anything other than the feel of him against me, the comforting thud of his heartbeat.

I nearly don’t notice when I abruptly untense and we damply break apart, Doctor Cox just wriggling slightly to free himself, then slings a leg over me to pull me closer against him and growl “mine” softly into my ear.

\- - - - -

I abruptly snap out of the pheromone-induced sprawl, hearing Newbie purring contentedly against me as I nuzzle his throat. I shift my leg and flinch. The couch is totally wrecked, drenched in slick and semen.

“Geez, we should have put a towel down or something.”

“Huh?”

“Your bodily fluids are everywhere. I didn’t realize sex with an omega was so… damp.”

He squirms and then pulls a face. “Not just mine, don’t blame me. Anyway, if we’d had the quick efficient German sex then this wouldn’t have happened.”

“That wouldn’t have been so fun.”

I kiss his temple and he wriggles around to press his face against my shoulder, wrapping his arms around my neck. “I feel gross.”

“That’s fair enough. I feel kinda gross too.”

Despite this he makes no apparent move to clean himself off, just snuggles against me more. I stroke his back.

“How’re you feeling?”

“A little sore…” he pulls his head away from my shoulder and looks me in the face. I kiss him almost automatically in response and he snorts softly. He holds my gaze and then smiles almost shyly at me. “I enjoyed that.”

He sounds surprised and I narrow my eyes at him. “Well… thanks, Tina. I guess.”

“Well, I know you enjoyed it. You seem to be ready for another round.”

I grunt. “Alpha prerogative, Newbie. What’s your excuse?”

I palm his erect cock and he squeaks at me. “Isn’t there an omega prerogative?”

“Hm,” I roll on top of him, pinning him down. “Maybe there is. We’ve already wrecked the couch, want to mess it up even more?”

“Maybe it’s salvageable?”

“It really isn’t, Newbie. Even a beta would be able to smell the state of this.”

I grind myself against him and he thrusts back at me. I grin at him.

“It’s no longer medical, Newbie. This would be entirely recreational, you up for that?”

He shrugs. “Well, I need to do a load of exercise to burn off all the calories I keep eating, right?”

I kiss him hard. “Fair enough.”

\- - - - -

“What exactly are you doing down there?”

“I’m trying to figure this out.”

“It’s sex, Newbie, not a Sudoku puzzle.”

I frown at him. “I don’t see how it… works…”

He grabs me abruptly by the hips and lines me up against his cock. “And then you just… sit down, I guess?”

I glance down at where I’m hovering over him and regret trying to take charge, this seems a lot more daunting than him doing it. I flinch, then lower myself down.

He slides into me smoothly and I whine softly, splaying my hands on his chest and the gasp at the sensation of him inside me. It feels different than before, less tight and awkward, him not having to repeatedly inch himself into me, just a single fluid movement down onto him. There's no pain, no burning sensation this time, just the feeling of my body accepting him deep into me. He groans and rolls his head back against the ruined couch, hands tightening on my hips.

“Oh God, JD.”

I circle my hips and bear down on him for a moment before lifting up and starting to tentatively move on him, trying to get the angle right to find the same place he was hitting before, extending my thigh muscles and leaning heavily against his chest to give myself leverage. He’s sprawled on his back and has just released my hips, moving his hands back to lace them behind his head as he watches me move on him, an odd expression on his face. He’s looking slightly disbelieving, his eyes marginally crazier than usual but in a surprised way rather than a mad way.

Fuck, he’s hot. His chest is heaving with each breath, six pack tensing as I move on him, muscles rippling every so often as he holds himself still and lets me move at my own pace. The scent of pine trees is strong, filling the air with him not holding back his pheromones any more, triggering me to keep moving on him, encouraging me to keep going, despite my thighs already starting to burn from the repeated movement.

“You’re gorgeous,” I pant out to him.

“I know.”

I roll my eyes and then nearly fall off as he thrusts up into me as I move down on his cock. I yelp as he slams into me, pleasure smokily exploding through me as he gets the angle just right. He unlaces his hands from behind his head and grasps my hips firmly, starting to move me up and down in time with my movements and then shallowly thrusting up into me, matching my pace. I start to move faster, chasing that amazing, overwhelming sensation, speeding up to try to stop it from being individual repeated spikes and merge it into one long, blissful roil. He's thrusting into me harder, my teeth clashing together at the impact. He rolls his hips, coiling his movements and pushing up into me and then groans loudly.

“Dammit Newbie, I want to fuck you ‘til you scream.”

I shiver, tempted to tell him to get on top, but then shake my head at him.

“Nope, I’m fucking you ‘til you scream. You had your turn.”

He jerks his hips up into me sharply, briefly making me shudder from the intense pulse of pleasure. “Hey, I had to be Mr Nice Guy with you, it was your first time. I couldn’t get all rough with you.”

I smirk at him, then slam myself back against his cock, rearing back onto my knees, fully extending my legs and start to aggressively ride him. He groans again and then starts a long, constant growl at the back of his throat. I grin at him, not halting in the rhythm I’ve got going.

“Hey, is that the alpha equivalent of a purr?”

He growls louder at me and I smirk back at him, aware I’m already letting out a low droning noise of arousal as I move. He doesn’t seem overly capable of talking back, his face screwed up as I keep roughly moving on his cock, hearing the slapping of our bodies meeting, him still gripping my hips tightly and thrusting into me, the pleasure feeling like a constant, hot mist coiling around my spine and pelvis, my cock throbbing.

“Gonna scream?” I purr at him, blinking sweat out of my eyes. He opens his eyes and rolls them at me.

“C’mon,” I murmur, clawing my fingers down his chest, leaving raised red lines in my tracks. “You know you’re holding it back, just let it go.”

I release a wash of pheromones, seeing his pupils dilate in response, his grip getting painfully hard on my hips. I rear, arching my spine and throwing my head back.

“Oh God,” he groans.

“Oh yeah, come on, c’mon baby, come for me,” I snarl at him.

At which point he seizes my hips, holding me still and knots me, wailing my name – my actual name, nonetheless, practically screaming “JD!” as he comes – promptly sending me into the weird, locked response to knotting, quivering and holding him deep inside me. I come all over his stomach and chest, softly whining as I do so.

\- - - - -

“You little bastard,” I pant at him, as soon as I’m able to speak again. He gives me a smug look in response.

“Enjoy that, _Perry_?”

“I’m going to get you back for that.”

He rolls his eyes. “Not right now you aren’t, you’re stuck again.”

“Yeah, and you’re stuck sat like that. Didn’t think that through, did you?”

He shrugs, unperturbed. “I’m not the one covered in spunk.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “I preferred you when you were terrified of sex with me. I’ve created some sort of monster now, haven’t I?”

He grins at me. I glare back.

“You’re so angry when you’ve just orgasmed,” he tells me, conversationally. “And now you’re stuck like that with me and I can get you to admit you’re my mentor.”

I swipe at him. “Stop that. I’ll get free.”

He smirks. “Admit it.”

“There’s nothing to admit, Sandy.”

“C’mon, admit it.”

“You often ask a ‘mentor’ to come for you and call them baby?”

“It’s an unconventional relationship.”

“You can damn well say that again,” I growl at him. “Why the hell have you become so chipper?”

“Admit iiiit,” he sing-songs at me and I give him a disgusted look. He tenses around my cock and I feel my eyes roll, aftershocks spasming through my balls. “Admit it.”

“No, you little torturous bastard. There’s human rights legislations against the kind of shit you’re pulling right now.”

He twitches on me again and I growl then give in, orgasming again with a grunt, grabbing his ass hard enough to bruise and thrusting into him as best as I can under the circumstances. It’s a raw, nearly painful sort of pleasure, dominated by over sensitized flesh and teeth gritting.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just admit it?”

“Nothing to admit. And you are really going to regret this later.”

He gives me a particularly patronizing look and I sit up and kiss him hard, crushing my mouth to his. He slings his arms over my shoulders and leans back from my punishing kiss, beaming at me. I try not to succumb to the urge to turn into a ridiculous pile of alpha goo at the combination of the beam, the glowing, stupidly happy-looking eyes and the contented pheromones he’s currently releasing. He nuzzles my ear gently and I stroke a hand down his still lightly sweating back.

“I’m not your mentor, Newbie. For one thing, I just fucked your brains out.”

“Yeah you did.” He sounds pleased.

I frown. “Are you high off your own pheromones, Newb? Only you didn’t seem all that happy about the whole thing earlier and now you’re acting like a lonely housewife in a 70s porno.”

He pulls back from my ear and looks at me thoughtfully. “Like I said, I enjoyed it. I didn’t really expect to.”

“What did you expect?”

He shrugs, not quite looking me in the eye. “I dunno, I expected to find it demeaning. And that I’d… oh, I don’t know, it’s hard to explain. Not be me. Be all meek and stupid and pathetic, like people say omegas are.”

“You were no more meek and stupid and pathetic than you are usually.”

He rolls his eyes. “Okay, fine, you can have that one. But I just expected to hate it. And for you to call me Shirley and belittle me throughout it…”

“How flattering,” I say drily. He looks surprised.

“What? Why wouldn’t you do that? It’s what you do the rest of the time.”

“Yeah, but not when you’re…” I stop myself saying ‘vulnerable’ since I just told him that it was bullshit that people called omegas vulnerable during sex. And he definitely isn’t, he’s an aggressive little bastard, he’d wreck most alphas if let loose on them. “Not when you’re worried about something and not like this. I’m not… I’m not just doing this just because of the inhibitor thing or as a pity fuck, you know that right?”

He blinks at me and then kisses my forehead gently. “That’s nice of you to say.”

I’m pretty sure he doesn’t quite believe me and resist the urge to roll my eyes, as I’ve done it so frequently over the last few days I’m genuinely concerned I’m going to strain my eyeballs soon. “Newbie, you can _smell_ this, why are you so weird about believing it?”

“All alphas smell like that if they can smell an omega.”

“Geez, you little bastard, stop that.”

“Well, they do.”

“Newbie, you may have noticed I smelt like that around you before I knew you were an omega. In fact, it feels like a bit of a cheap trick that you pretended to be a beta because it meant I didn’t check myself about dropping my guard around you sometimes.”

“Oh.” He stares at me, wide-eyed. “I thought you were thinking about someone else.”

“Seriously? You’re an idiot, you know that?”

He looks at me solemnly. “I have been informed.”

“Yeah? Good.”

I release some relaxing pheromones, trying to get the locked knot to release again. It doesn’t immediately work and I frown. He looks at me, puzzled. “What are you trying to do?”

“Trying to stop you being impaled on me.”

“Oh, yeah. This isn’t the most comfortable.”

“Yeah, I thought so.”

I mean, that’s not why I’m trying to get the thing to relax. The little bastard defied me earlier and I absolutely intend to make him regret it. I’m not going to think about how in detail though, as it might make the knot worse. He releases some of his own pheromones and wriggles a bit.

“It’s stuck fast at the minute. This is really weird.”

“Yeah.”

“Why does it happen?”

“Something about trying to impregnate omegas and knotting essentially getting as much semen into you as possible.”

He pulls a face. “Ew.”

“I don’t make the rules, Newbie.”

“Kinda dumb it happens outside heats then.”

“Yeah, but I guess it’s just a biological reaction.”

“It all just drools out anyway when the knot relaxes. It’s not a pleasant sensation.”

“Hm.” I lean forward and inhale. “You are… absorbing some of it or something though for it to alter your pheromones like that.”

Pomegranate and pine tree really shouldn’t work, it should smell like cheap toilet cleaner or something, but it’s nice on him.

“Are you saying I have your special sauce in my blood? That’s revolting.”

“No, genius, it’s pheromones. Best to avoid any blood tests after doing this, you’ll probably register as an entirely new gender.”

He looks nauseated for a moment and then releases some more relaxing pheromones. We abruptly slide apart in response and I catch him to stop him slithering off me onto the floor, flinching as the mess of come and slick that had been trapped oozes out onto me.

“Success!” Newbie crows. Which was rather foolish of him, considering it was the only thing keeping him safe after he’d done what he did. I grin at him.

He sees my expression. “Oh shit.”

\- - - - -

“C’mon,” I growl into his ear, pressing him down hard against the couch. “C’mon Newbie, you’re going to have to ask for it.”

He thrusts back against my fingers up his ass and groans, releasing enough pheromones to make my balls ache. He’s being surprisingly resolute so far, but I can feel him starting to crack, he’s already shuddering and I’m pretty sure he dropped down into the omega presentation stance a moment ago, something they only do when they’re in heat or apparently so turned on they can’t think straight.

“Asking with pheromones doesn't count,” I murmur, brushing my teeth against his ear. He whimpers and I kiss softly along his shoulder blades, before returning to his ear and licking it.

“Please,” he breathes out.

I smirk and scissor my fingers inside of him, making him twitch hard against me from his position on all fours.

“Please what?”

“Oh God…”

“You’re so nearly there, Newbie, c’mon.”

He groans and drops his head down. “Please fuck me.”

I lift my eyebrows and thrust my fingers into him, slick spilling down his trembling thighs. “That’s what I am doing.”

He groans and turns his head, looking a weird combination of turned on and annoyed. “Fine; please, Doctor Cox, fuck me with your big alpha cock, you narcissistic, overcompensating asshole.”

I lift an eyebrow. “Thin ice, Newbie. But as you asked so nicely.”

I pull my fingers out, seize him by the waist and then thrust into him hard. He moans and hitches his hips back against me to meet my thrust and I bite my lip. I have to keep myself under control, the little bastard made a point of making me practically scream and I am absolutely returning the favor.

I don’t think I’m going to have to try too hard though, he’s already trembling and purring underneath me. I lean back, grip him firmly by the hips and start to mercilessly fuck him, marveling at how easily and well he takes it now, how natural and right this feels. I might actually revoke my annoyance at alpha-omega biology and all the shitty ways it messes with our minds, this may just make up for it.

“Oh my God,” he grunts, moving at the same pace as me, matching each movement, moving in perfect sync with me like some sort of sexual metronome.

“Nope, just your boss,” I mutter back. “You like this?”

“Yes,” he pants out.

“Yeah?”

Come on, start screaming soon, I’m actually getting pretty tired and probably utterly dehydrated by now. I can sort of understand why alphas and omegas can essentially screw each other to death during heats. But it’s looking positive, his breath is hitching and he’s purring louder than he has been previously. I grin to myself, reaching around to start fisting his cock in time to my thrusts.

“Oh fuck.”

He bucks hard, legs skittering as he tries to keep himself grounded and I wrap an arm around his waist as I carry on jerking him off as I fuck him. He makes a soft wavering cry.

“Oh, come on JD, I know you’re holding it back on purpose now.”

He keens noisily back at me and I release a load of mating pheromones, which apparently pushes him over the edge into a brief spell of extremely loud insanity.

“Fuck fuck fuck, oh fuck, yes, oh my God, fuck yes, fuck me harder, oh my _God_ , yes yes yes yes _yes yes_.”

There we go. I smirk to myself, feeling him start to clamp around me already. “Good boy.”

“Oh my God, you bastard, oh, _fuck_ , yes, ah, shit, yeah, oh fuck Perry…”

And he’s coming and Jesus, that’s dragged me into possibly the most intense orgasm of the night, groaning loudly and replying with a load of nonsense that sounds like a babbled “God, you’re so good, you’re so fucking good, you beautiful, gorgeous little bastard,” as I come hard into him and slightly manically jerk him off until he squeaks at the over stimulation, having already come all over the couch.

His legs and arms promptly collapse under him and we sprawl into a gasping sweaty heap on the couch, locked together. I can feel his heartbeat hammering through him, I can feel it _inside_ him, thudding around my cock, geez. He pants for a few moments, then speaks in a strangled voice.

“You’re right, the couch is too far gone.”

“Yeah, I’m glad you’re on the bottom.”

“Someone could actually get pregnant from sitting on this thing naked.”

I laugh and sling an arm around him, kissing his shoulder. “You curse a lot when you’re about to come, did you notice?”

“It seems appropriate,” he says drily. “Anyway, you called me a bastard.”

“You did it first.”

“You are a bastard.”

“No argument there.”

“We’re not doing that again tonight.”

“Agreed. Not sure I can walk any more.”

He scoffs. “ _You_ can’t walk?”

“Shit.” I try to see into his face. “Are you alright? Sorry, I got kinda carried away and didn’t think about that it might be hurting-“

He flaps a hand at me vaguely. “Nah, it’s fine. I’ll have a shower when we’ve… uh, disconnected and I think that’ll get rid of most of the ache. It’s weird, isn’t it?”

“What?”

He cranes his neck around to look back at me. “That it just works like that. Pretty sure that should have hurt a lot, but I guess the pheromones and stuff mean omegas end up pretty… relaxed.”

“I guess. You don’t feel relaxed to me though, tight little bastard.”

“Uh. Thanks?”

“You’re damn right, thanks. I like it when you’re being clingy like that.”

He groans.

\- - - - -

When we finally break apart Doctor Cox drags me to me feet off the frankly revolting couch and I limp after him to the bathroom. He gives me a worried glance as I do.

“I thought you were okay?”

“Yeah, me too, until I tried to walk…”

He gives me a guilty look. “Sorry.”

He appears to feel bad enough about it to wash my hair in the shower and then apparently give up any pretense and wash the rest of me whilst petting me and growling in a soft, protective kind of way. I slump against him and yawn under the hot water and allow him to dry me afterwards before collapsing onto his bed, curling up naked under the bed sheet. He vanishes for a minute and reappears with an enormous bottle of water “to re-hydrate” and snuggles up against me.

“I thought you didn’t spoon?”

“I don’t usually have sex for six hours straight either.”

He sprawls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling, pulling me up against his side and stroking my back absently. I pillow my head against his shoulder and hook a leg over his. I glance up at him.

“You realize you owe Dan $200,000?”

“Dan can blow it out his ass. I’ll owe it to you.”

“Property damage, remember?”

“Stop being depressing, Newbie, I’m enjoying the afterglow.”

I laugh quietly against him and he starts to gently massage my scent gland. I purr tiredly at him.

“Aren’t you sick of that yet?”

“Surprisingly not.”

“I sound like a broken chainsaw.”

“Hm.”

I frown, then ask what’s been bothering me for the last half hour or so. “Do you think the sex will be like that when I’m on inhibitors?”

He glances back at me. “Well, possibly slightly less intense.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” I sigh.

“So… you want to do that when you’re back on the inhibitors?”

“Assuming they work? Yeah, I do. Uh… do you…?”

He closes his eyes tiredly. “I’ve already told you this, Newb. Yes, I do. I don’t care whether you’re beta or omega.”

“I’m never actually beta.”

“OhmiGawd, Newbie, stop correcting me, I’m trying to go to sleep and you’re being pedantic at me.”

I grin and then bite his shoulder gently.

“Ow, you little bastard.”

He kisses my forehead and I sleepily groan against him as he continues to massage my neck, twisting over onto his side to pull me against him so we’re chest to chest and tangles his legs with mine, wrapping his arms around me.

“Mine,” he murmurs to me softly and I press my lips against his neck and kiss him gently.

“Mine.” I agree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... I think after waiting this long what we all needed was an entire chapter of sexytimes, yes? The first time was intentionally written as being frantic and almost breathless, so I hope that comes across? Also, sorry it was all so... damp. 
> 
> So before I get any "this isn't a realistic portrayal" comments - you're basically reading about magical wolf sex, yeah? Realism wasn't exactly high on my priorities writing this and JD both 1. comments that the pheromones clearly do something to help and 2. is sore. If you want realistic awkward sex where no one quite knows where to put various body parts then read My Caged Performer...
> 
> Also, look, I also made them talk about their relationship! A bit. 
> 
> And yeah, "My Unorthodox Treatment" is referring to treating JD's inhibitor rejection with sex. I called a story "Sex", basically :/


	15. 15. My Return to Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that last chapter got quite a few hits. To paraphrase Doctor Cox; you're all dirty girls really.
> 
> This chapter's pretty goddamn fluffy, although there's a bit of angst thrown in there.

**My Unorthodox Treatment**

**by RumCove**

**My Return to Reality**

Disclaimer: Scrubs original characters belong to Bill Lawrence and NBC/ABC/Doozer Productions etc. Basically, not owned by me. I own the original characters in this work.

I grunt and open my eyes, feeling exhausted. Newbie is still asleep, pressed up against me and still quietly purring to himself contentedly. I feel myself smile stupidly in response to this and then quickly wipe the simpering moronic grin off my face. I can still strongly smell pine and pomegranate, which I’d have thought would have worn off by now. I twist back to grab my cell from the nightstand and frown at it. It’s 0900 and I really shouldn’t feel this tired. Also, has Newbie been purring all night? If so then I can probably expect him to be totally hoarse by now.

I hear a chiming noise and groan, assuming that’s Newbie’s cell and presumably what woke me up. Apparently Newbie sleeps like a corpse and so is ignoring it completely, just continuing to sleep and purr and smell like a rather bizarre cleaning product. The alpha part of me wants to just lie here and hold Newbie and listen to him purr and then probably inevitably try to have sex with him again. I quash that and prod him as aggressively as I feel capable of, which admittedly isn’t hugely hard. He frowns slightly and then stays asleep. I stroke his hair back from his face gently, resulting in him snuggling closer up to me, arching slightly and making a soft crooning noise, releasing a load of contented pheromones that wrecks my previous plan on moving.

"You're not supposed to be doing this," I murmur into his hair quietly. He makes the happy crooning noise again in response to my voice and I softly pet him for a while, watching him sleep, completely vulnerable and apparently utterly unbothered by this.

Omegas aren't supposed to be this comfortable around an unbonded alpha who isn't related to them. However, he had his throat completely unprotected last night and didn't seem even slightly concerned about that, even when I had my face against his neck. To be fair, I probably should have been more concerned by that too; I trust my self-control but Jesus, that was a horrendous level of temptation. The articles I've been reading about alpha-omega sex over the last few weeks were all pretty clear that any position that put biting as a possibility should be avoided; it's apparently how about 95% of bond bites occur, although admittedly some are intentional. The other 5% appear to be generally people biting each other in weird bonding-wedding ceremonies that strike me as completely bizarre, but l guess each to their own. I'm currently lying in bed with a purring Mr Clean and am pretty happy with the situation, so probably can't comment on how other people get their kicks.

Unfortunately the reality of actually mating with him meant that I seemed to lose a large portion of my usually pretty impressive intellect and completely forgot everything that I'd read and ended up screwing him with his neck completely within biting distance. I flinch slightly at that; I probably should have been more careful with him and I did _try_ , but... well, I guess I was pretty gentle. That first time I thought I was an absolute paragon of care for me if I'm going to be honest, he better have appreciated that. Alphas aren't built to be gentle, our muscular system is more developed than others and mating drives - particularly ruts - almost force us into screwing hard and fast. More like the third time, which Newbie seemed extremely happy with, so maybe omegas generally enjoy that too.

Some online articles claimed that dominant male omegas enjoy being aggressively fucked, but they were generally the stereotypical ones that I tried to avoid. The author was clearly getting off on some sort of domination porn fantasy. The comment section was even more disturbing, with some alphas claiming male omegas enjoyed getting hurt during sex, that it was what 'the little whores like' with many of the authors lamenting that they couldn't find one to do it to. I shudder, stroking a hand down Newbie's back to reassure myself that he's here and safe, not with some sadist piece of shit. What sort of alpha wants to hurt an omega? Sure, there'll definitely be some couples who enjoy that sort of thing and engage in it consensually, but hell, some of those comments were definitely _nahwt_ implying that. And he wouldn't like that, he was frightened that having sex with me would be painful, he's definitely not the type for that. 

_If you'd sold yourself you could have ended up with someone like that, Newbie. You don't even know that, do you? You know it theoretically, but you don't realize it could actually happen_ to you _. You think too well of other people to realize how many of them are complete bastards who would hurt you - who would get off on hurting you._

No comment on why I've been researching sex with omegas (and particularly male omegas) over the last few weeks, which I've never had any interest in before in my life.

I hear a chime again and sigh, wriggling out from underneath Newbie and go to investigate what the hell’s going on with his cell. I notice him stop purring abruptly when I walk a few steps away and glance back at him. Okay. There was me thinking he just did that in his sleep like snoring, but I guess that can’t be the case otherwise Barbie would have realized he wasn’t beta.

I experimentally step back a couple paces so he can smell me again and he resumes his purring.

Okay. Fair enough.

I walk through to the sitting room and retrieve Newbie’s cell, which does appear to be the origin of the annoying chirping noises. He has an alert on his lock screen advising that he has 9 new messages from Elliot. I return to the bedroom with his cell, him immediately starting to purr again on my arrival. I frown at him and gently shake him, which results in the purring stopping abruptly. He opens an eye.

“Whu’?”

Yeah, he does sound hoarse. I lift his cell up at him. “Hey, Penny Popular. Your cell keeps going off.”

I toss it to him, which he completely fails to catch and stares at it blurrily after he’s flailed around in the bed sheets to retrieve it. He frowns and sits up slightly in bed, then lets out a pained hiss and drops the cell again.

“What is it?”

“Nothing…”

“Nothing my ass, Newbie.”

He flushes at that and I realize the problem. “Oh.”

“Yeah. It’s okay, it’s not that bad…”

“Yeah, that looked just like it didn’t hurt at all. Let me see.”

He stares at me, horrified. “No way.”

“Oh, c’mon Newb, I got a pretty up close and personal view yesterday.”

“Look, it’s fine, it didn’t hurt this bad yesterday and-“

“And yeah, that was probably the pheromones, they do weird shit. I shouldn’t have been able to keep going that long either and I’m feeling pretty shit this morning from that, so let’s just assume we’re not exactly doing our health any favors doing this sometimes, okay?”

“What do you mean?”

I roll my eyes. “I mean I’m exhausted, Newbie, and I’m pretty sure it’s linked to the fact that I screwed you for a solid… what six hours? That’s not exactly natural, I figure the pheromones do it and stop us from feeling anything to slow it down. Y’know, like fatigue or your ass hurting after having a stone cold alpha stud inside you for that length of time.”

He inches away from me slightly. “Still, I’d rather you not…”

“Oh, for God’s sake, you want to sit around with a sore ass all day or how about I help you?”

He looks tempted by this, then sighs, pulls the bed sheet off of himself abruptly and huffily throws his head back, an annoyed comment of “this is so demeaning” accompanying his actions. I roll my eyes and then check him over, irritated with myself when his initial flinch makes me nearly growl at some invisible threat.

“I can’t see any tearing, Newb, but you do look kinda… sore.”

“Fantastic,” he deadpans back, staring at the ceiling.

I drop his leg down and pull the bed sheet back over him. “What did Barbie want?”

“Oh… dunno…” he wriggles back down under the sheet self-consciously and then looks back at his cell. “Uh, she’s forwarded some information from Gillespie. Looks like some alternative drugs to try, but…”

“But what?”

He frowns. “These need to be taken more frequently. And… well, I’m guessing they’re more expensive, they must be more recent, I don’t remember these being options when I initially spoke to doctors about inhibitors.”

I sit down next to him and crane over to read what Barbie’s sent. Newbie’s 'I’m guessing' is evidently bullshit, since Barbie pretty clearly does include that they’re more expensive, but that Gillespie thinks that they’re more reliable and less likely cause a severe reaction if they don’t take. “Ibucion and Lidoprosate Kyrollone?”

“We should just try the ones that I have left over first-“

“Newbie, you nearly had a fit when I injected you with that shit before your heat. If these ones are less likely to do that to you then it makes sense to try them.”

“No it doesn’t, I can’t _afford_ these, I can barely afford the other ones.”

“And like I said, don’t worry about that, I can-“

“I already owe you for the heat clinic, I can’t owe you for these too.”

I roll my eyes at him. “What was that you were saying about my owing you $200,000?”

“You wouldn’t owe that to me, you’d owe it to Dan.”

“I don’t owe that waste of space anything, Newbie. Also, were you not listening when I told you about my sister? I got a chunk of blood money from my asshole father selling her off and I tried to pay her it back, not that she’d take it. I’ve still got that, y’know? I kept it, I couldn’t figure out what to do with it. And I figure she’d be pleased if I was helping another omega with it.”

He blinks at me then sighs. “Look, fine, it’s… very generous of you to do this. But I will pay you back. I mean it, I don’t want you to feel you have to do this.”

I retrieve my prescription pad and scribble the recommended dosage down. “Alight, Newb, I’m sure you’ll pay me back when you win the lottery or your ridiculous plan to open a private practice with Gandhi in the mid-west comes through-“

“That’s not ridiculous.”

“-but I’ll just go get ready and then pick this stuff up for you, which I assume I can do if I claim I’m your alpha?”

He nods and I frown back at him. “Seriously? I don’t even need to prove any connection to you?”

“I guess there’s no reason for an alpha to fake needing it, it’s not like you can spike an omega with them or anything. Makes us less likely to have sex, after all. You do need my ID card though and just… I don’t know, say I didn’t change my name to your’s or something.”

“What ID card?”

He tries to get up and I gently shove him back down and go retrieve his threadbare wallet from the sitting room where his pants ended up yesterday, flicking through it. “I can’t see anything in here, Newbie.”

“Yeah, I don’t exactly keep it on show, it’s confirmation that I’m omega. There’s a compartment in the back.”

I twist his wallet around and see a thin line on the back it. I can just about slide a finger in and hook out the card. I glance at it and immediately see why he keeps it hidden; 'OMEGA REGISTRATION CARD' is heavily emblazoned at the top of it and the photo is presumably of Newbie just before he went on the inhibitors, looking young and worried, his glowing eyes clearly visible. It lists his registration in Ohio and, more infuriatingly for me, includes the line 'If lost report to Ohio omega registration bureau for reunion with responsible alpha'. I initially read it as the card being lost, then promptly realize that it rather patronizingly means if JD himself is lost. I fold the prescription over the card and absently pet Newbie’s hair, which is probably just as patronizing as the stupid ID.

“Alright, let’s get you your fix, you junkie.”

\- - - - -

At the pharmacy I pause to grab some topical Lidocaine and a hydrocortisone cream, figuring either might help and it probably won’t hugely surprise the pharmacist that a slightly shame-faced looking alpha is buying that as well as omega inhibitors. I frown, glancing over at the pharmacy counter.

Part of me (a very annoying part) is screaming that putting him back on the inhibitors might mean I lose this. And not just the sex (although, _damn_ , the sex), but everything else, his eyes, his scent, his ridiculous appetite. And he won’t rely on me any more. He’s currently essentially trapped in my apartment, where I can keep an eye on him and look after him. Would it be so wrong to get something else non-damaging to him and claim that the inhibitors have simply failed? Have him with his glowing eyes and annoying clinginess all to myself? My alpha is furiously demanding that I keep him to myself, that I keep him with me, that I keep him _safe_. 

But I’m already shaking my head to myself. Because if I did that to him – assuming I could even live with myself if I did – then he wouldn’t be like he was yesterday. Or, he would – he’d be like he was when he thought he was trapped as an omega. Miserable and lost and upset, resenting both his and my biological systems. Not the purring, growling, filthy, laughing little bastard who rode me and teased and tormented me. And really, could I stand the idea of him imprisoned in my apartment like that? I know how much he loves his work and the idea of him not being able to do that almost physically hurts to consider.

So yeah, of course I’ll get the damn inhibitors. I’d like to think that he’ll come off them sometimes – assuming that they work – and we can be together like we have been. Not that I’ve really got an issue screwing him as a beta – the only real difference will be the eyes and the pheromones, I think, the rest should be the same – but the last few hours haven’t been like anything I’ve ever experienced before. I want to think that’s not gone forever.

Sick of procrastinating, I walk over to the pharmacist and hand him the prescription and Newbie’s omega registration ID. He glances between them and looks up at me boredly.

“You his responsible alpha?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re aware this could impact on his fertility, right? We have rut nasal sprays if you’re finding his pheromones too distracting.”

I grit my teeth. “Can I just get the prescription, pal?”

He tuts to himself and then nods. “It’ll take a while to make up; I’ll need your ID as well to register it against, since you’re allowing him to use them.”

I grimace and pass him my ID (just my Social Security obviously, alphas don’t need to be registered anywhere - and since I'm so visibly alpha I've never been asked to prove my secondary gender) which he pedantically types into his computer before returning both IDs and the prescription. If he noticed that Percival Ulysses Cox shares the same unfortunate surname as the prescribing doctor then he doesn’t comment on it. I pass him the two creams as well and he smirks at me.

“Do you want some brufen as well?”

I growl softly and then nod. He gives me a sympathetic look. “I wouldn’t worry, they’re built to take it. The amount of alphas I get in here needing this kind of thing… well, it’s not unusual.” He shrugs and I feel nauseated. Newbie’s in pain because it was his first time and because we kind of overdid it. That this is viewed as a common thing and something omegas are 'built to take' makes me feel queasy and I try not to imagine whether Paige ever needed treatment after her bastard alpha had had his fun with her.

I hand my credit card over, ignoring the eye-watering total and then shove the medication into a brown paper bag and slump onto a chair to wait for the inhibitors to be made up. I ordered a six month supply and some new syringes, since I’m hoping that those thick gauge needles won’t be necessary for the new prescription. Whilst I wait I check my cell – no messages for me, unsurprisingly. I WhatsApp Barbie and ask her if she’s around later. She replies promptly.

_Barbie: Yeah, why?_

_Me: Assuming these new inhibitors work, I was thinking I should drop Newbie off at your’s. Gandhi and Carla will absolutely be able to smell where he’s been the last couple of days if I take him back to their apartment._

_Barbie: Oh. Sure. Have you guys fixed the problem then?_

I grimace. That’s Barbie thinking that she’s subtly asking if we fucked each other. I narrow my eyes slightly and then reply: _I don’t view him being himself as a problem. He’s the one who does, ask him._

That’s probably more telling than me just replying with a 'yes', 'no' or 'mind your own goddamn business', but she’s already read it now, so too late to delete it. A message telling me that she’s typing flashes up.

_Barbie: Right, that’s not weird at all. Drop him off around 6?_

_Me: I’ll get back to you when I’ve tried him on this new shit Gillespie suggested._

“Percival Cox?”

I look up and see the pharmacist with the inhibitors and collect them from him. They’ve been labelled as being prescribed for 'John Michael Dorian (care of Percival Ulysses Cox)' and then further down 'Physician: Dr P Cox'. Maybe this guy just thinks Cox is a common name?

I grunt a thanks at him and take the relatively hefty bag (and the syringes do look considerably smaller, thank Christ) and walk back to the apartment. I deposit the medication onto the kitchen table and then walk through to the bedroom and briefly panic when Newbie isn’t in bed. Shit, where is he? Did he go outside? He can’t have done, he’s still completely omega and un-bonded, God knows what could have happened-

“JD? Where are you?”

“In the bathroom, geez,” comes the slightly annoyed reply.

“How’d you get there, you could barely move?”

There’s a clatter and I can hear him limping around in there. I sigh and pull a towel out of the spare room and lay it down on the bed, retrieving the creams and painkillers from the bag. JD opens the bathroom door after I hear him brushing his teeth and then freezes seeing me putting the towel on the bed.

“Oh… look, Doctor Cox, I really don’t think I can do that again right now.”

I narrow my eyes at him. He’s put one of my shirts on again, swamping him slightly, and has gone pale at the sight of me putting the towel on the bed.

“Well, gosh, Newbie, here was me thinking that you barely being able to walk would be conducive to me fucking your brains out again. I got some topical anti-inflammatories and painkillers, I was gonna try and apply them and didn’t fancy messing up another piece of furniture.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“The couch is definitely wrecked, by the way. If you weren’t clearly in so much pain I’d make you help me carry it outta here.”

He limps forward and I resist the urge to walk over to him and pick him up. He wouldn’t appreciate that, I’m pretty sure.

“Did you get the inhibitors?”

“Yeah, Newb, but let me apply this first. You really don’t look so good.”

He frowns and eases himself onto the bed. “Didn’t you have enough of your anatomy inside me yesterday?”

“Very funny.”

He makes a rather martyred expression when I pointedly lift my eyebrows to get him to spread his legs, then flops dramatically back down onto his back and assumes the position. I apply antibacterial hand gel and then squeeze some of the cream out onto a finger tip and start to apply it. Within about a minute I feel him start to produce slick in response and he lets out a frustrated growl.

“Yeah, that’s why I put the towel down.”

“This is mortifying…”

“It’s an automatic reaction.”

“Still mortifying and – _oh God_.”

I smirk at him, knowing what’s just triggered his exclamation. His cock’s definitely interested in what I’m currently doing. I pull my fingers out and apply a much larger than necessary dollop of the cream and press it back into him. His head rolls and he whines softly.

“That soothing, Newbie?” I ask, trying to keep the smugness out of my voice.

“Oh God, I hate you.”

“Sure doesn’t look like hate.” I briefly caress his cock with the other hand and he groans.

“Stop it…”

I hitch the shirt up away from his lower body, exposing the pale, slightly pink-flushed skin. I gaze down at him thoughtfully, able to think more logically than I could last night. He’s slender and delicate-looking, but there’s coiled power in the muscles and flexibility in the long limbs, which I felt him using yesterday, particularly when he was riding me and rocking against me as I fucked him on all fours. He's only got sparse body hair, making him look paler and more naked somehow. I gently stroke across his belly and then pause and slide my fingers out of him. He whines softly.

“Just applying the anti-inflammatory, Newb. Unless you want me to stop that?”

He wriggles slightly and sighs. His cock’s already looking heavy and flushed and uncomfortable; I can already smell the mating pheromones he’s giving out in response to my handling him.

“No, I don’t want you to stop… anything that you’re doing.”

I grin at him. “Good boy.”

\- - - - -

I’ve screwed my eyes shut, annoyed at myself that I’m reacting like this. Doctor Cox is continuing to smooth the cream inside me. It feels cooling and is alleviating the sore, scratchy, burning sensation inside me. I sigh to myself as he lays his other hand on my stomach. I try not to whine at him to put it back on my cock, the tease, but then jump as I feel him kiss the top to my thigh, at the junction where my leg joins my body. I make a choked noise as he continues kissing along the soft, vulnerable skin of my thighs and stomach, keeping away from my cock. His stubble whispers across me and I groan loudly.

“What’re you doing?”

“Just trying to make up for hurting you yesterday, Newbie.”

“I hurt myself, it wasn’t-“

I’m cut off by him kissing the base of my cock and yelp sharply. He laughs softly in response and repeats the action before starting to kiss and lick up the length of me.

“Oh God,” I grind out, my knee twitching almost violently as he smoothly rotates his cream-laden fingers inside me and swipes his tongue across my cock. “Oh God, oh fuck, oh shit.”

“You really do have a potty mouth, Newbie.”

I pant and then, giving up any pretense of resistance, lift my knees up over his shoulders and drop my hands down to tangle in his curls, nudging him back towards my cock. He laughs again and then wraps his lips around me, sucking hard. I gasp and buck as his hot mouth engulfs me.

Jesus, I can’t believe he’s doing this, I can’t believe that _Doctor Cox_ is giving me a blow job. It’s utterly incomprehensible, like Rowdy suddenly being able to play fetch and not stink of mothballs. Or the Janitor being sane. And that he’s good at it, oh God, he’s _really_ good at it, his mouth, lips, tongue and throat working over the length of me as he continues to gently stroke the cooling cream inside me. I’m already throbbing and aching, stupidly turned on by the experience. Slick’s slowly oozing out of me, but thankfully not as much as yesterday and even that seems to be helping lessen the lingering edges of pain.

He dips his head down and… oh shit, shit shit, that’s his throat right, that’s… oh fucking hell…

I make a strangled noise and spasm, biting my lip as my cock starts to drool precome, worried it’ll make him choke. I squirm, sweat breaking out over my body, heat pooling low in my stomach, a slight metallic taste at the back of my throat as my head spins. Oh shit, I’m going to come soon. I don’t know if he’ll be flattered that I’m about to blow my load after he’s been sucking me off for about ten minutes maximum or he’ll torment me for not lasting anywhere near as long as he did last night. I tighten my grip on his hair, trying to warn him. He ignores me, continuing to lathe his tongue over me.

“I’m… oh, I’m gonna come, you need to pull back or…”

He ignores me again and I have a brief, terrifying vision of him furious and with semen in his eye. Unfortunately this doesn’t seem to be enough to turn the tide of my impending orgasm, which I can feel edging towards me like a tsunami, my ability to think apparently starting to recede as it approaches.

I make a last, helpless attempt to shove his head back, which he aborts and then pointedly pins me down by my hip with his free hand, stopping me from trying to shake him off. I grunt and tighten my grip on his hair, figuring that there’s no point in trying to stop it now. My back arches and I whine loudly, feeling- oh shit, heat and his mouth around me and his tongue and his throat and fuck, his fingers inside me and..

“Oh God, oh Doctor Cox, oh Perry...”

My head jerks back as I come almost violently, stomach twitching, euphoria boiling through me and snarling loudly as I try to hold myself back. It makes no real difference, I can feel my cock pulsing hard into his mouth as he laps firmly and repetitively at me, my entire lower body tensing and rippling with each spasm of pleasure.

After what feels like about an hour I finally crest the wave I’m riding and pant oxygen back into my lungs, shivering as aftershocks run through me. Doctor Cox slides his fingers out of me and pulls off my cock. I flinch, no idea what he’s likely to say. “Uh… sorry I uh…”

“Geez Newbie, stop apologizing all the damn time. You’re so uptight I’d think you have a stick up your ass, only I’m pretty sure I’d have found it by now.”

I sit up dizzily and glance down at him where he’s grinning at me from between my legs. “I’m not uptight, just I didn’t think you’d want to… uh well, do that.”

“Why not?” He kisses my inner thigh gently. “I already told you how good you taste. Must be the pheromones, you kinda taste like they smell.”

I suddenly realize that this whole thing’s been completely one-sided. “Oh, shit. Sorry. Uh, I’ll… um, I’ll do you.”

He rolls his eyes. “How seductive Newbie. What were you thinking of?”

“I could… I could do the same?” Maybe he’ll taste like his pheromones to me too, although I’m not sure I particularly want my mouth full of something that tastes like pine sap.

He grins, then sits up and briefly kisses me. “Not necessary Newbie, not a problem after your little performance there. Thanks for the offer though. I’m gonna go shower.”

I watch him walk away. “Did you seriously just come in your pants from doing that?”

“Such a prude, Delia.”

I sprawl onto my back and stare at the ceiling. “Alphas really are horny bastards.”

\- - - - -

I growl to myself in the shower, washing off the remnants of the sex. I can still smell and taste him and that was _fucking_ hot. I realize that he smelt and tasted of his own pheromones rather than a blend of both of us and grin into the hot water. So that clearly wore out eventually.

God, that was good. The taste of him, the way he was groaning and writhing. Fuck, even the way he was trying to push me off as he got desperate. Poor little Newbie, clearly thinking I’d be pissed with him for doing what I absolutely wanted him to do. I lick my lips, still tasting the lingering remnants of what tasted like pomegranate syrup.

It’s kinda weird, actually. If I’m honest I always much preferred receiving oral to giving it, but… well, this is different. This is all totally different, if I’m honest. The noises he makes, the smell, the taste of him and just… just that he’s _him_.

I step out of the shower and start to run a bath as I dry off. I then go retrieve Newbie from the bed, where he’s curled up on the slightly damp towel in my shirt. He inevitably starts protesting when I pick him up, so I kiss him.

“Shut up, Newbie. I wish I’d figured out how effective this was years ago.” I growl against his lips. He squeaks, affronted. I kiss him again to keep him shut up, before carrying him through to the bathroom and abruptly dropping him into the bath. He yelps.

“I can _walk_. And you could have let me take the shirt off first.”

I shrug. “It’s my shirt, Claire. And you were limping pretty badly earlier.”

“It feels a lot better now. Thanks…”

I drag the wet shirt off over his head, then kneel down by the bath and start smoothing the water over him, softly kissing the side of his face and damp hair. He rolls his head over and looks at me tiredly.

“I can wash myself, you know.”

I kiss him again gently. “I know. Indulge me.”

He frowns at me, wrinkling his forehead. “What is it?”

I shrug. “Feeling affectionate.”

He sighs. “This is a pheromonal thing, isn’t it? You’re trying to look after me because I smell all mixed up with your pheromones.”

“Yeah, sure.” He doesn’t smell like that any more and I’ve been driven to look after the little bastard since the moment I met him, but I’ll just omit those details for now. He apparently accepts me being drunk on biochemistry as an acceptable reason for me to be gazing at him euphorically and then starts to nuzzle against me in response. I find this utterly charming, even though he’s just getting me damp.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that, right?” I tell him quietly, wrapping an arm around him from behind to hold him up as I bend his knee back to wash his leg with the sort of focus I’d usually put into placing an IV.

“Yeah, I know.”

He relaxes back against me, half sprawled out of the tub and purring quietly again. I grin and briefly press my cheek to his neck to feel the purr tremble through me.

“You do that in your sleep.”

“Do I?” He looks worried. “That’s kind of a giveaway, isn’t it? I’ve never been told that before.”

“I’m guessing it’s a reaction to an alpha rather than something you do all the time. Otherwise one of your lesbian girlfriends would have picked up on it.”

He nods absently, either ignoring the lesbian girlfriends comment or not being bothered to pick up on it. “I guess. Better make sure I don’t fall asleep with any alphas in the room.”

The idea of him being curled up and peaceful and vulnerable around a load of alphas makes me tense immediately. “Don’t fucking be in a room with other alphas,” I snap back. He stiffens and gives me a sideways glance. I groan and scrub at my face with a wet hand. “Sorry. Automatic reaction.”

“You don’t want me to be in a room with other alphas? You realize that would basically be impossible?”

“Yeah, like I said Newbie, it was automatic. Don’t pay too much attention to that. How would you feel about me being in a room with another omega?”

He growls quietly in response.

“Yeah, exactly Newbie. This _thing_ between us is gonna cause some pretty dumb reactions like that. For now let’s just say we’ll try not to piss the other one off. If some bastard tries to get all up in your space and I flatten them or some pretty little omega cosies up to me and you burst into tears in the corner of the room then people might pick up on it.”

“I wouldn’t _cry_.”

“Sure, Newbie.”

“No, I wouldn’t. I’d probably try to bite them.”

“Good to know. That would be even weirder than you crying, that’s pretty standard. I could explain that away with you thinking about animals going extinct and getting overwhelmed by it. Or just puppies.”

He turns and looks back at me, soapy bubbles coating his pale skin, water teasing his hair down in glossy strands and blue eyes glowing luminously at me. I’m briefly struck dumb by how he looks, then frown at him.

“Don’t do that.”

“Exactly, don’t stare at me like that either. It’s pretty obvious.”

“I can’t help it,” I mutter. “Look, let’s just agree to try not to get the other one riled up, to try not to stare, to try not to look… fucking _stareable_ at, alright? And… not to be directive here, but don’t screw anyone else, okay? I won’t either. If you do then I can guarantee there’ll be a hell of a lot of me flattening people and you crying, whether you want to or not.”

He nods slowly. “Uh. Yeah, I kind of… well, thought that was obvious. I’m not actually sure I… would want to.”

I stroke his hair back from his face carefully, trying not to let the relief and pleasure show on my face hearing him say that. He catches my hand and holds it between his palms, looking nervous.

“Uh, Doctor Cox… are we… uh, are we in a relationship?”

I look at him blankly. “Well… I don’t know, Newbie. Do you want to be?”

“I… don’t know. Do alphas and omegas usually categorize themselves as in relationships or-“

“I don’t give a shit what alphas and omegas do. This is about Coxes and Newbies.”

He giggles and squeezes my hand before looking serious again. “Honestly, I don’t know. I’ve kind of been scared of getting into this sort of situation my whole life and this has happened so quickly.”

“What are you scared of?”

He moves slightly closer and I slide a hand up his arm, the skin slippery and smooth. It reminds me of trying to lure an abused stray dog closer, having to barely move and be gentle and unthreatening so it edges ever closer. “Not being in control? Not being able to live my life? Having some stupid part of me make decisions for me that the rest isn’t really happy about? Pretty much everything, if I’m honest.”

“What about me?”

He grins. “I’m not scared of you.”

“Good.”

“I’ve seen you screaming my name when you orgasm.”

“Alright, Newbie.”

“Yeah, you actually called me JD.”

“Yes, alright, you little bastard. I knew you’d use that against me.”

He’s crept close enough for me to wrap my arms around him and pull him up slightly so his chest’s pressed against mine, one of my hands dropping down to gently squeeze his ass, enjoying the sensation of the firm muscle under slippery soapy skin. He slings his arms around my shoulders in response, engulfing me in a wet foamy hug and kisses me. I twine my tongue with his gently and then break the kiss.

“Let’s not call this anything just yet then, nnkay? We both know the rules and we’ll figure it out when it’s a bit less… well, sudden for both of us.”

He smiles at me and I kiss him again. “Whatever this is, you probably shouldn’t call me Doctor Cox all the time though, that’s kinda weird Newbie.”

“I’ll call you Perry the same amount you call me JD.”

“Yeah, Newbie, that’s not gonna work in your favor. You calling me ‘Doctor Cox’ when you come is possibly the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard, I kinda have a vested interest in you still doing that.”

He smirks and then leans close to my ear. “Who says you calling me ‘Newbie’ when you fuck me doesn’t have the same effect?”

My mouth goes dry.

\- - - - -

We both stare at the couch. Despite what he said earlier, Doctor Cox seems relatively unconcerned about the state of it.

“Wow. You really weren’t kidding. That’s revolting,” I comment. He nods. I frown. “Do you have insurance?”

“I’m not sure that insurance claim would go through, Newbie. ‘My protégé turned out to be omega and I fucked him for hours on the couch, resulting in, quite frankly, tidal waves of bodily fluids, please give me $1000 for a new couch, preferably a waterproof one’ doesn’t strike me as the sort of statement that would get approved.”

“You calling me your protégé is just one step away from admitting you’re my mentor.”

“Don’t push it, Rebecca.”

“How can we get rid of it?”

“I figure if I set it on fire it’ll attract alphas and omegas from miles around and then I’ll force them to take it away.”

“Airborne pheromones?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s basically a bioweapon.”

He kisses my temple. “Sit on the chair, let’s look at these inhibitors.”

He retrieves a bag from the kitchen as I curl into the armchair and then comes back over and sits on the floor next to me. I’m surprised at that and nearly offer to switch places. But I kinda like that it’s subverting the usual stereotype and so just stroke his hair, playing with the springy curls. He leans back against my hand, pressing himself against me and closing his eyes, making a soft rumbling noise before turning back to the inhibitors and then passing them up to me. I frown over them.

“These don’t look right.”

“What do you mean?”

I show him the syringe. “This is so much… smaller. Will it still work?”

“Well, you got the messages, Newb. Sounds like these are more developed, maybe that’s why it no longer looks like a medieval torture device. The solution itself looks less… thick as well. That other stuff looked like it would hurt.”

“Yeah, it burns,” I say absently, looking at the thinner liquid and noticing him flinch. Not like him to be squeamish about stuff like that. “This is supposed to have less side effects too, although I can’t say I noticed much on the other stuff.”

He takes one of the vials and fills the syringe. “This should feel a lot better than the other stuff Newbie, so how’s about we try-“

“No!”

He looks up at me in shock. I mean, I’d look at me in shock too, if I could. What the hell? He stares at me, confused.

“What? You don’t want it?”

I stare at him, miserable. “No… I do… I just…”

Oh God, how do I even explain this? That I’m scared that I’ll feel different when I’m on them? Not hugely, I know I won’t much, it’ll just be the pheromones and the eyes, I’ll feel the same. But will it be like this with him? I’ve not wanted to admit it, but I’ve felt so much better than I have in years over the last few days, much more relaxed and happy, despite the worry about what’s going to happen. I don’t know how much of that is because I'm not being drugged and how much is him… but the idea of losing that scares me.

And the worst – the absolute worst – is if he stops looking at me like he is. What if it’s just me being omega? What if he stops acting this way towards me? Yeah, he’s still tormenting and belittling me, but he’s being caring and kind and… and looking at me like I’m something precious. Something beautiful. I know I told him off for doing it earlier, but every time I see that it’s… oh God, I can’t lose that.

“It’s not fair,” I tell him, trying not to whimper.

“What’s not fair, JD?”

“That I have to do this. Why can’t I just… just be allowed to be me?”

He caps the syringe and puts it onto the coffee table before kneeling upright and pulling me into a hug. I surge against him, knocking us both over onto the floor and screw my eyes shut, wrapping my arms around him bruisingly tight. Utterly incapable of expressing how I feel, I give up and just release a blend of pheromones to try to explain it to him. His grip tightens on me in response and then he sighs and kisses my hair. “Oh, sweetheart…”

Oh, shit, what the hell biochemical signal did I send that would make him react like that?

I try not to whimper out that I don’t want to have the stupid shot, I don’t want to not have this, I don’t want to go back to all that shit and worry and hiding and can’t I just stay here and… and…

And what? I can’t _stay_ here indefinitely. And what, never see my friends? Never work? That’d be awful too.

“Y’know Gillespie said about not needing to come off inhibitors, that it was just something that was done in the hope omegas would stop wanting to take them?” I ask him, addressing his clavicle, my head tucked under his chin.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah… the bastards might be onto something…”

He impossibly manages to tighten his grip on me further. “You don’t need to take them.”

I sigh and lift my head up to look at him. “Oh, but I _do_ , Perry. This has been… this has been amazing. But it’s been like… like a break from reality. And I can tell myself I want this and that and wouldn’t it be great if soandso happened. But it’s all just suspended reality, right? Because I can’t even go outside like this, I certainly can’t go to work like this, my friends can’t see me like this. It’s either I hide here and ruin various items of furniture with amazing sex or I take the inhibitors and try to keep going with my life. And hopefully still have amazing, if slightly less damp and weirdly shiny, sex.”

He strokes my face and then gently kisses me. “You may have a point.”

“Yeah…” I don’t dare ask what he smelt earlier to have produced the expression on his face, trepidation and disbelief, his eyes shimmering slightly. I nuzzle his throat and then lean my forehead against his jaw. He cups the back of my head, gripping my hair almost aggressively for a moment and then pulls my head over to one side to expose my shoulder. He rests his chin against my forehead and then pulls the shirt I’m wearing over to one side to bare my skin.

“You want me to do this and get it over with, Newbie?”

“Yeah.”

He keeps his other arm tightly wrapped around me from where we’re tangled together on the floor and reaches over for the capped syringe. He starts to release comforting pheromones and I slump against him, staring at his throat despondently as I feel the needle slide into my flesh and a cool sensation start to run through me. It’s completely different from the previous inhibitors, which hurt and broiled as they forced their way through my bloodstream. It’s just a chilly, icy numbness spreading through me. I barely feel any pain.

I shiver sharply and he pulls me closer. “Newbie? You alright?”

“Yeah. Just it’s _cold_.”

He pulls back to look into my eyes and then frowns, apparently studying them.

“What?” I ask. “Are they not working?”

“They are working,” he answers slowly. “Just it’s happening gradually, it’s weird to see. I’m guessing this hurts a lot less?”

“Yeah,” I confirm.

“Yeah, it’s more gradual, not just overwhelming you. I think it’s done now.” He squints. “I… I think they look slightly different. I’m not even sure how, they don’t look omega any more, but I don’t think they’re quite the same.”

I frown and scramble out of his arms, him reluctantly letting go of me and trailing after me to the bathroom as I stare into the mirror. It’s a shock to see my eyes looking comparatively dull and monochrome, but I ignore this and look closer. He’s right, my eyes don’t look omega any more, but there’s some infinitesimal change. I twist my head slightly, trying to figure out what it is, but not really able to exactly identify it.

“You’re right,” I call back to him. “They’re different somehow. Just I’m not sure how.”

He appears behind me in the mirror and frowns. “But you don’t look omega. And, really, it’s a minute change. Unless someone’s been staring soulfully into your eyes for years then I figure no one will notice a thing.”

“You noticed,” I mutter, without thinking. Then see him freeze in the mirror before he looks away abruptly, apparently embarrassed and mutters “yeah, but… look, it’s not noticeable Newbie”.

\- - - - -

Newbie didn’t really want to go to Barbie’s, which gave me some comfort, but he did understand the reasoning behind it. I dropped him off and he’d given me a miserable look as he unclipped himself from the seat belt. He’d looked so dejected that I’d thrown caution to the winds and leant over and kissed him hard. I was pretty certain Barbie had a view of us, but screw it. I could tell myself I was staking my claim and she could keep her damn hands off my Newbie.

Also, I don't need him to be releasing pheromones to know he was sad at the separation. I was too, if I'm honest, but it was better to get him to Barbie's place.

He’s there now and the apartment feels horribly empty. I’ve kept the shirt that he was wearing earlier and can still smell him on it, but the rest of the girly haircare products and pomegranate-scented toiletries have gone with him so he can claim he bought them and the spare clothes whilst he was staying with Barbie. I’ve stripped the couch, stamping down the alpha urge to hang onto the soiled mess of it, hoard it somehow. Omegas are clearly much more sensible in their attitude to things. Newbie was mildly revolted by the state of the couch, whilst I was having to squash down some bizarre pride in the disgusting piece of furniture, like it was my first-born child or something. My alpha was cheerfully crowing ' _I did this with my omega. Look how fucking virile we are, we’re better than all of you'_.

I’ve thrown the couch outer layers into the washer in the hope I might salvage the thing if I take the cushions to get dry cleaned. My alpha is whimpering sadly at the loss of Newbie and the glorious sodden couch and I ignore it.

I’m researching again. His new inhibitors are state of the art and apparently don’t have the horrendous withdrawal symptoms that throw omegas immediately into heat. They’re generally just gentler on omegas and less likely to screw with their biology. I have also absently been searching about alpha-omega sex and discovered that our experience wasn’t exactly textbook. Most initial mating experiences are apparently painful and traumatic. I figure maybe our’s wasn’t because we actually know each other well, but suspect I’m avoiding thinking about that too much. Particularly since I also read that generally omegas don’t want to mate more than once, particularly during their first time. I’ve got a defective omega.

Or he’s just him and I’m just me and I can stop reading all this crap that’s telling me how we’re supposed to behave. I’ve never been susceptible to this shit before and I don’t intend to start listening to some assholes telling me what to do now.

I’m also trying not to think of him hurling himself into me after initially telling me not to inject him and the pheromones he released when he seemed to get tongue-tied when he was trying to tell me what the problem was. It was the weirdest thing I’ve ever smelt and I suspect it only really happened because he’s not really in control of his pheromones and has spent most of his life suppressing them. It was like getting smacked in the face, the scent equivalent of a roar of noise that nearly deafened me. Most of it I couldn’t identify, a weird blended mess of emotions and urges. Some I could sort of figure out; things that smelt like sadness and concern and worry and panic. Others that I couldn’t ascertain at all.

I did clearly recognize some of it. Fear was definitely there; the issue, of course, is that pheromones are just a natural alert signal. There’s no _context_ , so I didn’t know what he was afraid of, just that he was afraid. There was an odd one that I only really recognized because I’d smelt it on Dan after their father had died. Mourning. And that had gotten to me, because I didn’t need context. He was mourning losing the experience. Of being with me without any drugs and just of not hiding being omega, I guess.

But what really did hit me hard was the last one that I identified, one that I’m certain he didn’t know he was releasing. I’ve only smelt it a couple times before and both times from Paige, once when our asshole father got drunk enough to try and beat on the family omega (or 'the retirement fund' as he called her) and I stopped him and the other time when I was protesting against her forced mating. Both times she’d come to me afterwards and hugged me and released _that_ scent.

It’s love.

I’d nearly released it right back at him, but then realized that he’d had no idea that he’d sent that signal to me and possibly wouldn’t even recognize it in return. It’s not fair on him, he’s gotten so used to not controlling them that he can’t keep things he absolutely would usually to himself. He’s got pheromone Tourette’s. And I’m not even sure he knows that he was feeling that. The weird pheromone cacophony pretty clearly showed that he was overwhelmed at the time. 

This is why it’s good that he’s at Barbie’s place, even though the mere thought of that makes me want to smash my apartment up right now. Newbie’s not the only one who needs a bit of time to try to feel less overwhelmed.

\- - - - -

“Sooo?”

“So?”

I try to look innocent and not meet Elliot’s eyes. She hasn’t commented on the change in them, so maybe it really isn’t that obvious. But I know what she’s asking right now.

“Did you guys…?” She trails off, lifting her eyebrows, a strange, curious smile on her face. I glance at her.

“Elliot…”

“You totally did, didn’t you?”

I flush. We’re sat together on her couch (oh God, couches, oh no) eating pizza and watching some endless Netflix series.

“Elliot, it’s kinda weird talking to you about that.”

“Oh, c’mon JD. I’m pretending to be having some misguided sexual adventure with you, at least give me some gossip. Incidentally, it’s kinda awkward doing this what with Keith.”

“Uh, sorry. You guys are casual, right?”

“Well, yeah. But what am I supposed to say to him?”

I shrug. “Just tell him it’s not true. He’ll know, right? I’m guessing he’s here most of the time so that’ll be pretty believable.”

“Yeah, I had to kick him out earlier.”

“I’m pleased for you, Elliot. I’m glad you have an actual beta boyfriend now, not an omega pretending that-“

“Oh, stop that. Like I said, I get why you did that now. It kinda makes sense and I guess I’m flattered you chose me as your beard.”

I sputter at her. “Beard?! Elliot-“

“Oh, stop trying to change the subject. Did you two bone?”

I open and close my mouth, then try again. “Uh. Yeah.”

She squeaks and covers her mouth. “OhmiGod, what was it like?”

“Elliot!”

“Oh, come on JD. Frick’s sake, tell me!”

“It was…” I stop, trying to figure out how to even express it if I even wanted to. “It was good, alright?”

“Just good?”

“Seriously, Elliot? You want the details?”

“Just…” she looks at me thoughtfully. “You seem kinda sad, JD.”

“I’m just confused right now, Elliot. I don’t really know what I’m feeling. I didn’t expect this. Particularly with _him_.”

“He didn’t hurt you, right?” She’s suddenly looking furious and I roll my eyes. Why is everyone convinced that people are going to hurt me as soon as they find out I'm omega?

“No, Elliot, he didn’t. He was very… careful.”

She snorts. “I can’t imagine him being careful. Although I guess I kinda can imagine him being careful with you, he’s always protected you from-”

“Look, he’s an alpha, they get like that around omegas.”

“I meant before we knew all this, JD.”

I sigh. “Can we not talk about this?”

“He was on top, right?”

“Elliot…”

“I mean, I’m assuming alphas are always on top and-“

“Oh my God, Elliot. _Yes_ , alright, he was on top, which was kind of the point of the exercise to see if doing what my stupid body apparently wanted would stop it puking up inhibitors. If I’d fucked him then that would have been a kinda stupid experiment.”

“What’s he look like naked?”

“Like you’d imagine. Stop asking questions.”

“And you enjoyed it?”

I narrow my eyes at her. “The omega part of me enjoyed it.”

“Well, all of you is omega, so that means yes.”

I groan and she looks confused. “What? Why are you being so weird about this?”

“Because I’ve never had sex with a guy before, alright? I don’t particularly want to go into all the gory details, particularly with someone I’ve… uh, been intimate with. And _I’m_ being weird? You’re asking your ex-boyfriend to describe sex with our boss.”

“Do you still want to bond with him?”

I sigh. “You really don’t get this, do you? I never consciously wanted to bond with him, that’s some sort of freakish biological thing. Also, I’d _never_ heard of that before. I thought bonding just happened when an alpha bought an omega. I didn’t think they… match-maked like that.”

“I guess the way everything’s been set up means it doesn’t happen much any more. But that makes way more sense, right? Rather than some rich bastards buying the few dominant omegas that are around people just live their lives and mingle as normal and then you just find the right person.”

“Ugh,” I flop back on her couch. “I am _so_ envious of you.”

“Why?”

“You’re beta. You can choose all this shit. Apparently I couldn’t choose when I was younger and now my stupid body has chosen for me. And has chosen some… big angry alpha _dude_ , why couldn’t I at least do this with an alpha female?”

“What, like Jordan?”

“Oh God, no.”

“JD, do you know how envious _I_ am? For biology to just say ‘there’s the perfect mate for you, you two match’ and you don’t have to question it or worry about it, because _science_ says you’re suited? I have to keep trying and figuring it out and constantly undermine myself and second guess everything?”

“He’s not the perfect mate for me. It’s just a pheromonal thing and the rest is just lust and hormones.”

“No, it’s _not_ , JD. That’s why Professor Gillespie was asking about how well you knew him and how close you two are. It doesn’t just happen like that, both of them have to know each other first and-“

I pick up a cushion and pull it over my face, muffling her. “Ughhh, stop talking.”

I pause for a second with the cushion on my face and pull it off to grin at her. “He gave me a bath, can you believe that?”

She giggles. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” I nearly add “after he gave me a blow job”, just to see if it makes her brain dissolve in shock, but decide against it.

“C’mon, what other embarrassing things did he do?”

“Well…”

\- - - - -

After swearing Elliot to secrecy and then regaling her with various embarrassing Coxisms (I wanted to keep most of his rather sweet behavior to myself, so just went with the awkward 'shutting you up' kiss, him being ridiculously affectionate a few times and him telling me I purr in my sleep, which Elliot has confirmed I didn’t do with her) she eventually lets me escape to bed, smirking and saying I must need some rest after my sexcapades. She actually said sexcapades as well.

Surprisingly, I don’t feel bad for telling her a few select details, partially because I kept most of the really personal stuff quiet and also because I made sure I shared stuff that was slightly embarrassing but that showed Doctor Cox in a good light. I need to keep Elliot on side with this or she could wreck everything. She seems to be being very cool about the whole thing; if someone told me an ex-girlfriend wasn’t a beta and was having steamy sweaty sex with a female alpha I suspect I’d be slightly more neurotic than she’s being. And probably turned on as well, although that might be why she keeps asking questions about logistics. However, I get the distinct feeling that she’s not overly pleased with Doctor Cox and still pretty suspicious of what he’s doing. And I obviously can’t try to explain why he’s maybe not a standard alpha and what happened before because of course I’m not going to tell Elliot about Paige. He made himself hugely vulnerable telling me about that.

I sigh and wriggle in bed. It’s 2am and I can’t sleep. As soon as I got here I started to think about him and couldn’t stop. It started as relatively innocent thoughts, wondering if he’s gotten rid of the sofa and whether he misses me and if he’s gone insane from the second opinions of Doctor Google yet. This relatively rapidly descended into remembering him holding me on the floor and hugging me and the bath and… well, that then became utterly perverted and I’m currently staring at the ceiling, remembering the sensation of him holding me down on the sofa and fucking me with his fingers until I begged him to use his cock. My erection is rather insistently telling me that sleep is not an option right now unless I deal with the current situation.

Oh God, I can’t jack off in Elliot’s spare bedroom. Particularly because I strongly suspect that as soon as I start I’ll begin releasing slick again and that would be very embarrassing to explain. “What the hell’s this all over my Egyptian cotton bed sheets, JD?” “Uh, a massive snail broke in and lay here, sorry…”

Oh, screw it, I’m going to go masturbate in my former girlfriend’s bathroom at 0200. This is totally normal.

I triple check that the door’s locked then strip off and glare at my cock. Okay, fine, let’s deal with this efficiently. Efficient German sex style, as Doctor Cox would say. Or claim I wanted to participate in.

I use some of Elliot’s cherry blossom hand cream and… oh God, that feels good. My head falls back as I quickly use my hand on myself, squeezing and twisting my wrist slightly as I think about his skin against mine, his hands on me, him kissing me, growling and rumbling against me. Flashes of the last couple days and what we did together. Then I remember him kissing around my thighs and then taking my cock in his mouth and oh, shit, that’s working, oh God. And… oh fuck, remembering riding him, his expression when I moved on him and… oh God, him crying out my name when he came. I screw my eyes shut and furiously jerk myself off, biting my lip hard to stay quiet as I orgasm fiercely and unexpectedly.

I pant, drawing air back into my lungs desperately. I wait for the usual wave of euphoria and sleepiness to hit me and am suddenly horribly depressed, a bitter, painful melancholy running through me. It’s such an intense sensation I nearly keen aloud in shock and misery and have to swallow it down so I don’t accidentally wake Elliot.

I wash my hand and find some washlets to wipe myself off (and yeah, great, slick, get rid of that too) and wriggle back into my PJs. I stare at myself in the mirror, trying to figure out what the problem is. I look despondent and I sigh, splashing water into my face.

I know what the problem is, I just came thinking about him and he wasn’t here afterwards. I miss sleeping with him, even though we’ve only actually done that… what, twice? I miss his presence, I miss him being around and teasing me. Oh God, I just miss _him_.

I slope back to bed and lie there for a while, then I grab my cell and quickly type and send a WhatsApp message to him before I can change my mind.

_I just jerked off in my ex’s bathroom at 0200 imagining riding my boss. That’s weird, right?_

I sigh. He won’t be awake right now so I’m not going to get a reply, I’m just hoping reaching out to him will make my sub-conscious stop feeling quite so horribly sad right now. I close my eyes, trying to think of something, _anything_ , other than him.

My phone chirps and I glance over at it, then seize it to eagerly read his reply.

_Perfectly sensible thing to do, considering who your boss is. Not weird at all, I may have done something similar myself about 30 minutes ago._

I grin and then snigger softly. I bite my lip again and then quickly send a follow up: _I miss you_.

I see it get delivered and then him read it. I watch 'Dr C is typing' like an obsessive stalker.

_Fair enough, very understandable. Get some sleep Newbie._

I frown. That’s it? Great. I guess not that I expected much back, even totally besotted by pheromones he still insulted me a fair bit and the whole experience wasn’t exactly… romantic. Not in any normal understanding of the word, anyway. I sigh and lie face-down on the bed, twitching back to look at my cell when it bleeps again.

_Miss you too x_

Aaaaaaaaaaaaa.

\- - - - -

I may or may not have shown Elliot the 'x' this morning (whilst carefully hiding the message where I tell him about masturbating in her bathroom thinking about him). I am possibly in love with the 'x' and keep thinking about it with a stupid dreamy smile on my face. She tells me off for this, pointing out that I’m supposed to be going back to the apartment and acting mildly depressed and pained that 'it’ll never work between Elliot and I, you guys are right, this isn’t serious'. I won’t be able to sell this act if I keep looking soppy about the 'x' and daydreaming about it.

“Yeah, true.” I can definitely sell pained though. My ass still hurts a bit.

Elliot drops me off at 1400, making a big deal about making noise and commotion so that Turk and Carla hopefully look out the window and notice that hey, it’s Elliot dropping JD off. I point out this would be easier to sell if she just came up to the apartment, but she shakes her head.

It’s an odd story, we’ve got to imply that this really isn’t serious (and also, if she gets asked by anyone else then she’ll just deny it, I don’t want to screw up whatever is happening between her and Keith, if that looks in danger I’ll figure something out) but I absolutely need an excuse to be out all night and not have to explain myself to anyone. I point this out to myself repeatedly so I stop smiling goofily at the 'x' and focus on feeling a bit despondent, the way I was last night. And also on my ass still being sore, I’m sure I can use that.

Turk and Carla both glance up from the couch as I come into the apartment and I pretty abruptly don’t need to make myself feel a bit miserable. For one reason, they’re both looking at me with weird expressions, Turk slightly accusatory (presumably for ignoring his advice about Elliot) and Carla frowning at me, probably because she’s pissed that I’m apparently screwing up Elliot’s thing with Keith when she likes to use it to show up Turk. Also, considering how depressed I was feeling at the idea of never being able to come back here and just hang out with them, I’d expect to feel more elated. Not just a rather sad pang that I don’t hugely want to be here right now.

I give them a half-hearted wave. “Hey guys.”

“Hey, VB. How’s it going?”

I shrug absently and self-consciously shift Elliot’s travel bag with my stuff in from hand to hand (it’s got flowers on and, although probably goes with my general aesthetic, is making me feel a bit awkward). “S’hangin’ fine, dog. How’s it going with you two?”

“We missed you, Bambi,” Carla pipes up, although she’s still got that weird expression on her face that I think is disapproval. Not sure what her problem is, it would technically be Elliot two-timing Keith, I wouldn't technically be the one in the wrong.

“Yeah, I missed you guys too,” I mutter. I kinda did as well, although I’m feeling real flat now. “What’s there to eat?”

“Jesus, JD, are you ever actually gonna cook anything?”

“I could order?”

Turk glares at me and I hurriedly shove Elliot’s travel bag into my bedroom and go back through to the kitchen and start to dejectedly try to cook. Turk gives me another annoyed glance.

“Serves you right, man. We were worried.”

“I was only gone for one night-“

“You were gone for longer than that JD.”

“Yeah, but I told you where I was.”

“After I caught you out lying.”

Carla interrupts. “Oh, stop it Turk, Bambi’s not your wife, no matter how much you wish he was. JD, what are you cooking?”

I stare at what I’m badly chopping. “Bell pepper.”

“Yeah? What are you gonna do with it?”

“Um.” I glance at the bell pepper and then at the stove. “Cook it?”

“Seriously, JD?”

I shrug. “With… some other vegetables…?”

“Baby, go help him.”

“I’m watching-“

“Go help him, I don’t want to just eat a load of roasted bell pepper. Look after me.”

He rolls his eyes and heaves himself over as I sulk to myself that Doctor Cox didn’t expect me to cook anything. Why the hell won’t Turk look after me too, the bastard?

Later in bed I message him back: _I actually really do miss you. These people are making me cook. You might be an angry, narcissistic psychopath, but even you don’t expect me to make ratatouille x_

I figure the 'x' takes the sting out of the insult and I want to send one back, despite suspecting he won’t be quite as pleased as I was by his.

_I’m impressed, Newbie. I honestly didn’t think you could spell ratatouille, let alone make it x_

I flinch, then decide to be honest.

_I burned it. Got Chinese instead._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JD having his crisis over the inhibitors actually made me pretty sad in this. For readers who were hoping he'd stay off of them; he doesn't really have much choice. He pretty much says this in his comment to Doctor Cox when it's suggested that he not go back onto them. Poor JD :( The (sort of) nice thing is that he says he has to go on them but doesn't want to - which is different from before, so he is developing a bit.
> 
> Also, yeah, there's a horrible reminder of how omegas are treated in society from the Cox POV in this chapter - both his thinking about the alphas talking about hurting male omegas during sex online and his interaction with the pharmacist being rather bleak examples of this. JD sort of refers to this at one point previously when he says that dominant male omegas tend to be a kink for a certain type of alpha. (Doctor Cox seems to think JD doesn't understand the implications of things, but he generally does, he's just either resigned to them or has decided that the risk is acceptable - he really isn't stupid/is a sneaky little weasel.)
> 
> On a positive note, “Geez Newbie, stop apologizing all the damn time. You’re so uptight I’d think you have a stick up your ass, only I’m pretty sure I’d have found it by now" is possibly the best thing I've ever written Cox saying.


	16. 16. My Unorthodox Treatment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For clarity; I did not accidentally write the title twice. This chapter has the same title that the fic does. I also have an exam on Friday, so have been editing this interspersed with reading and doing very boring practice quizzes.

**My Unorthodox Treatment**

**by RumCove**

**My Unorthodox Treatment**

Disclaimer: Scrubs original characters belong to Bill Lawrence and NBC/ABC/Doozer Productions etc. Basically, not owned by me. I own the original characters in this work.

“Wake up, J-Dog, you have a shift in an hour!”

Oh, shit, shitty shit shit fuck crap, I’ve overslept. I woke up a couple hours earlier and decided to lie in bed and think about Cox-sex and apparently fell back asleep in a muzzy, weird aroused state. I shriek some response and roll out of bed, landing on the floor. Apparently I’ve had a fight with the bed covers during the night. Looks like they won.

“You alright, dude?”

“’m fine, ‘m up.”

I scrabble at the night stand and dry swallow one of the new pills. I need to take two of the bastards a day, but on the plus side I feel… fine. I feel like I did for the last few days. I never even noticed that the old medication deadened some of my feelings, my reactions, even my sense of smell. That’s a mixed blessing really, Turk smells even worse to me now than he did before. And Carla… smells different? I’m not sure how, it’s not unpleasant. I’m also getting the stupid omega urge to hang around with her more, to be by her side.

Honestly, it’s all so dumb. Like 4th graders all lined up for a country dance, split boys and girls, like there’s no way anyone can ever be friends if they’re not all the same gender. All ridiculous shit. I don’t just want to hang around omegas, that would be ridiculous. Also, my experience from when I was younger was that other omegas don’t really like me, I’m too crass and crude and I don’t apparently act right.

Iolite seems to like me, but she’s crass and crude and weird as well. And possibly Max, but he’s never actually met me.

I stagger upright, shoving the pills into my nightstand in case Turk wanders into my bedroom for some reason and bound into the bathroom, quickly washing and struggling into fresh clothes. I stare at my hair in the mirror afterwards. God. It’s gone full on omega now. I’m just going to have to say I’ve had some sort of treatment, it essentially just looks like a huge voluminous mane. I just won’t use product, it doesn’t look too different from when it’s styled I guess. I tug at it, the thick strands refusing to break or alter direction.

“Hurry up, JD, you need a lift, right?”

“Yeah, sorry. Just fixing my hair.”

I hear him snort and frown into the mirror. He’s just jealous I have hair. Particularly this hair, _damn_. I need to get it cut, I’ll look like a Troll doll soon if I don’t.

I exit the bathroom and then jump horribly when Turk gives me a hug from behind.

It takes an absolutely huge amount of self-control to stop the sudden, furious reaction. I want to snarl and, Jesus, I want to bite him. Not in the way I want to bite Perry sometimes either, in an angry, defensive way, in a 'get the absolute hell off me' kind of way. Not only is it the surprise and the smell of him, but he’s pressed up against me and I’m still a bit sore and…

I throw his arms off me, forcing myself not to snarl, not to bite, not to let off panicked pheromones, which I realize with a stab of horror that I could do. These inhibitors don’t deaden me in quite the same way, that if I feel sufficiently threatened (or possibly other things?) that I can respond.

Turk’s looking at me in shock and I see Carla sitting on the couch, looking tired but definitely surprised at this reaction. I _never_ say no to a hug, particularly not from Turk. I force a bashful smile onto my face and then hug him chest to chest, intentionally not breathing so his scent doesn’t bother me too much.

“Sorry man,” I mutter into his shoulder. “This Elliot thing… well, it’s kinda got me down. I’m a bit moody at the minute, ignore me being an asshole.”

“Hey, don’t sweat it VB. I get it.”

Oh, you really don’t, Turk. But it’s nice you think you do. I break the hug and grin at him, filtering some oxygen through my teeth and trying not to cringe at the fact I can _taste_ the pheromones, oh God.

The weird thing is, I’ve never disliked how Turk smelt before, in fact I’ve always found it quite comforting. He smells like a seashore. There’s nothing remotely unpleasant about it at all, a slight salty, seaweed, umami flavor to it. Technically Doctor Cox should smell worse, the pine scent is much more abrasive, much more overwhelming and pungent.

But Turk doesn’t smell right and that apparently hugely bothers me currently. I ignore the little comment at the back of my head that the only reason he smells wrong is that he doesn’t smell like pine.

“We need to get going soon man, you good?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry, gimme a second, I’ll just grab my bag.”

I hurry back into my bedroom, grabbing some of the pills out of my nightstand and packing my stuff into a messenger bag. I’ll pick up my backpack from my locker. I’ll also check whether Sasha is still functional after standing unattended and unprotected from the Janitor for days. I dart back out and join Turk, who’s muttering something into Carla’s hair and being all affectionate, releasing a load of vomit-inducing pheromones which I carefully turn my head away from. God, it’s like he’s just having smushy sex with her in pheromone form, I know he thinks I can’t smell it but, ugh, control yourself. Doctor Cox never does stuff like that, even…

Oh. Well, presumably that’s because he doesn’t actually love me or have any real issue parting from me. I glower and scuff the toe of my sneaker against the skirting board, glancing moodily back at Turk and Carla, an actual proper alpha-omega couple, not two people who got thrown together and tried to fuck their way out of it. Literally.

“Dude, you look like a serial killer, stop that.”

“Sorry.”

\- - - - -

My first day back goes surprisingly smoothly. Doctor Cox doesn’t stare at me in any overly concerning way, just gives me a brief “y’alright, Newb?” when we’re alone, which I confirm I am. I do kind of want to hurl myself at him on a couple of occasions, which is weird since I wouldn’t have said he was looking hugely appealing, to be very blunt. He looks tired and unshaven, a heavy reddish scruff of stubble on him that’s close to a beard and an exhausted expression on his face. I quietly ask him if he’s okay and he says he is and then rather self-consciously mutters that he’s not sleeping well. Which I can probably guess from the fact he’s replied to my messages at 0200.

“Maybe you should take something?” I suggest. He shrugs.

“I don’t think that’ll help, Newberoo.”

Apart from him looking a bit broken (did I do that? Why am I weirdly proud that I possibly did that?), things seem relatively normal. Elliot and I keep an awkward façade around each other and don’t talk too much. I don’t need to manufacture this, since Elliot keeps asking me about sex whenever we’re alone, so I keep making sure we aren’t. I think she’s getting off on this. She’s a pervert too, everyone’s a goddamn pervert.

The Todd also asks me about sex, but that’s just The Todd. Apparently I’ve been away for a few days getting my “beta bone on”. I inform him (truthfully) that I haven’t, then ponder for a while about how he'd react if I told him I'd been getting my omega bone on. He interrupts my daydream by asking repeatedly about beta sex until I run away (“but you guys don’t produce pheromones, right? So how do you get all sex stoned?” “Betas don’t get that.” “ _Dude_ , seriously? And how do you knot if-?” “Oh my God, my patient’s coding, I have to leave immediately”).

The Janitor has been staring at me all day. It was initially his usual standard of weird and creepy, but it’s starting to get unnerving. He’s had several days to come up with an inventive, horrifying plan, why is he going back to standard Janitor tormenting tactics? He prides himself on his originality, after all. I’m disappointed in him.

He does corner me after work, leaning heavily against my locker, which he must know I need to get at.

“Hey Scooter.”

“Uh. Hey.”

“You’ve been gone a while.”

“Yeah, I… I had a few days off, been workin’ a lot. You know?”

Normally this would induce a furious rant about me thinking Janitors don’t work (I mean, he definitely doesn’t), but he just stares at me oddly. I stare back at him.

“Can… can you do whatever horrible thing you have planned so I can get my backpack and go home please? Are you going to make me pee in the toilet stall with no door? I can do that, if you want.”

“You want your backpack?”

“Um. Yeah.”

“It’s in your locker?”

“Well… yes.”

“You realize I can get in here, right?”

I frown. I feel like I should be picking up something here, but…

Oh, shit. The old inhibitors are in there. Or the pills are anyway, I’d been keeping them close because I’d had a terrible feeling that something was going to go wrong. I was right as well. Has he _found_ them? Shit, he doesn’t know, right? I feel myself pale.

“Yeah, now you get it. You disgust me, you know that?”

Oh God. Oh God _oh God oh God_. No, not him. Who knows what a psychopath like him will try? I don’t think all alphas are alike, but dammit, he’s actually insane, God knows what he might do. Bring it on, you bastard, you’re recessive, I can knock you out with one well-timed pheromone blast if I want to.

I’m about to go into a snarling tirade about how alpha bastards who think they can manipulate omegas disgust me, but he resumes:

“I mean, yeah. Steal things from the hospital, that’s standard. Toilet paper. Stationery. A computer monitor. I can understand that, we all do it.”

“I don’t do that. How the hell do you _sneak out_ a monitor?”

He ignores me and continues. “But that’s just revolting. You know that stuff can make them real sick, right? And it means alphas like me can’t even tell they’re around. Can’t keep them safe. I guess you think that’s hilarious, a beta like you? You guys all hate alphas and omegas anyway, right?”

Oh my God. Oh, the relief. He thinks I’m selling them on. I’m not sure if this is because I make such a convincing beta or whether the idea of my being an omega actually doesn’t compute to him, since his alpha brain would probably actually go into meltdown at the idea that he once duct-taped some poor innocent little omega to the ceiling or all the other shit he’s done to me thinking I’m a beta. I feel a spasm of relief that I always decant them into a blank pill receptacle when I’m taking them out with me and don’t leave the prescription label on (how could he tell? I guess they smell weird to an alpha, or he’s likely crazy enough to take them to get tested, thinking he’s found out I had some embarrassing STI or something). I have to bite back my urge to grin in relief and just grimace at him.

“Yeah. Well. I have student debts, you know. They’re kinda crippling.”

Once again, _not actually lying_.

“Yeah, well, joke’s on you asshole. I flushed them down that door-less toilet stall.”

“Oh.” I’m glad I only had a few with me, otherwise that would actually be devastatingly expensive.

“Yeah. And if I catch you with shit like that again…” he moves away from the locker and looms over me alarmingly. I suddenly realize that his usual menacing is oddly light hearted and that this – whatever this is – is him genuinely pissed. He’s authentically trying to threaten me, likely because he thinks I’m some sort of low-life drug dealer selling medication on to desperate omegas. I reverse nervously. “If I _ever_ catch you with that shit again, then I’m gonna-“

“What the hell are you doing, Iron Giant? Back off before I sodomize you with your goddamn mop.”

I freeze, feeling him inches behind my back, the warmth and scent radiating off him. He smells pissed off and is already producing the weird dominating pheromones, which I do my best to not breathe in. He sounds exhausted and a quick glance over my shoulder shows that to be the case, dark shadows under his eyes, which are focused entirely on the Janitor. He looks a horrible combination of furious and achingly tired.

The Janitor, apparently freaked out enough by an aggressive dominant alpha, beats it rapidly, still giving me a resentful glance which I know will mean trouble for me later. I look back at Doctor Cox.

“Uh. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“Well, I kinda mean thanks for not flattening him. That might have been hard to explain.”

He barks a sarcastic laugh and then flinches, blinking repeatedly and scrubbing at his face. He’s really not right.

“You alright? You really don’t look so good.”

“I’m just tired, Newbie.” He staggers as he says it and keeps his eyes closed for a moment longer than normal, his shoulders lowering.

“Your shift’s over, right? You should get home, get some sleep-“

“It doesn’t _work_ , JD.”

Oh wow, he’s so tired he’s using my name in public. Sort of public. Outside his apartment, anyway.

“What do you mean?”

“I…. I can’t sleep,” he gives me a helpless glance, a brief uncharacteristic show of vulnerability. “I even tried taking Ambien, I just ended up not really knowing where I was. And _still_ awake and…”

“And what?”

He gives me a resentful look, apparently annoyed at himself and me. “And anxious, alright?”

“Oh.” I nearly ask him why, but suspect he’ll end up even more aggrieved if I force him to spell it out.

That’s weird. Yeah, I have some trouble getting to sleep, but not much. I get a bit depressed and nervous without him around and always wake up tangled up in the bedding, apparently violently fighting it in the night, but I do sleep. Even if it’s not the best quality.

“I can’t stay over tonight.”

“I know. It’s fine, Newbie.”

“Uh… but I could come over for a bit? You know, to see if that’d help?”

He glares at me, the effect diminished by how bone-achingly weary he clearly is. “What, you gonna tuck me in and tell me a bedtime story, Gillian?”

I grin awkwardly. “I can if you want.”

He sighs. “I guess it can’t hurt to try.”

\- - - - -

I am so _goddamn_ tired. It’s gone past the usual exhaustion, my eyes constantly ache and my vision’s blurring alarmingly. I can barely hold myself together, it took a supreme effort of will to not rip the bastard Janitor apart when I found him apparently threatening my omega, a pulse of pure rage and murderousness running over me at the sight. It was damn two-fold as well, wanting to show the kid that I could protect him and also wanting to just fucking destroy the Janitor.

Kid knows anyway, although the kid is currently trailing behind the Porsche on his scooter, apparently not phased by my extremely slow driving. My reactions are not working for shit, I’m not risking going any faster, even if the roads are dead at this time of night. I’m pretty sure a drunk behind a wheel would be safer than me right now. I probably should have gotten a lift, but I’d definitely just fall off the back of Newbie’s scooter. Mortifying.

I park up and lock the Porsche, confused that Newbie’s managed to park the scooter, take off his helmet and stand next to the car in the time it’s taken me to get out the door. God, I must be moving slowly. He gently takes my house keys from me and goes and calls the elevator. I don’t usually use it, I’m only on the second floor and not taking the stairs will likely inevitably slide into me becoming morbidly obese and requiring a triple bypass. I lean against him heavily, surprised he can apparently take the weight of me. He slides an arm around my waist and holds me up as the elevator rises.

Damn, this isn’t right. I’m supposed to be demonstrating to him that I can protect him and how fucking good my genetic material is, not squashing him in an elevator as I try not to fall asleep on him.

Oh, screw it. It’s all bullshit anyway and Newbie is well aware of how impressive I am. Usually.

The elevator jerks and I drag my eyes open, having apparently nearly fallen completely asleep as I press my nose against Newbie’s hair. I’d expect him to laugh at me for that, but he just pulls me out of the elevator, opening my apartment door and getting me inside, closing the door behind us. I stare exhaustedly around the sitting room, wondering if I should ask him if he wants a drink or-

“Go through to the bedroom.”

“Ooh, get you Nancy, who gave you a pair of testicles for Christmas?”

“Just go…”

I slump into the bedroom and throw myself onto the bed. He trails in behind me and sighs, before apparently deciding to be more proactive and starts to unlace my shoes. I huff at him.

“Can’t keep your hands to yourself, huh?”

“If you have enough energy to make smart comments then you can help.”

I flail an arm and then stay lying face down. He’s deftly removed my shoes and socks and then pulls me over onto my back and starts to unbutton my shirt. I open my eyes to look over at him.

“Seriously, Newbie, you’re a dirty little bastard.”

“Are you actually high from a lack of sleep? Is that even a thing?”

I yawn. “Dunno. I have hallucinated from it.”

“Oh God. Really?”

I nod. “Pretty sure you’re actually here this time though.”

I feel like I shouldn’t have said that, but can’t remember why. He looks at me carefully in response and then unbuckles my belt and unhooks it from my pants, unzipping them. He goes down to the foot of the bed and drags my pants down and off, leaving my boxers on. He appears to have completely given up on expecting me to do anything and scrabbles into my lap, straddling my hips and pulling me upright by my shoulders to drag my shirt off. I take advantage of it, wrapping my arms around him, pressing my nose to his neck and nuzzling him as I cup his ass.

“Uh. I thought you were tired?”

“I am.”

He wriggles. “Yeah. Some of you’s definitely alert right now.”

I sigh. “I can’t help it. Biology. You bitch about your’s, but you’re at least not a total slave to it all the time, outside of heats.”

“I don’t even smell omega right now.”

I shrug, continuing to knead the firm muscle of his gluts. God he feels good. He smells good too, even if he doesn’t smell of pomegranate and omega.

I want to screw his brains out, but I’m definitely not capable of that right now. And I’m probably not capable of going to sleep with an erection either, so… heck.

I make a frustrated growl into his neck and he sighs. “You’re not going to go to sleep like this, are you?”

“No…”

“Alright, I’ll deal with it.”

I’m about to ask him what he means when he intercepts the question by softly kissing me. I immediately mindlessly kiss him back, working my tongue against his, trailing my hands over his frustratingly clothed body, thrusting hard up against him.

“Jesus, calm down,” he mutters against my lips. I growl at him in response, frantically clutching at him and delving my tongue into his mouth, enjoying the taste of him, the very faint pomegranate flavor, the texture of his skin and his mouth, all velvet and silk and _Newbie_. He kisses me back and then pushes me down firmly so I’m flat on my back, continuing to twine his tongue with mine as he reaches down and starts to fist my aching cock.

Oh my God, yes. “Good boy,” I snarl into his mouth. He makes an exasperated noise.

“Can you _be_ any more patronizing?”

I screw my eyes closed, rolling my head back as his slim fingers move over my cock, grunting to myself. He kisses my throat gently and starts to move down my body, lapping at my nipples, which makes me thrust into his hand and snarl again. I feel like a mindless ball of nerves and muscle and engorged flesh, no real control over myself as I submit to his ministrations and make animalistic, guttural noises in response.

Ah, fuck, little bastard’s good at this, he’s continuing to jerk me off as he kisses and nips around my hips, occasionally adding a little wrist twist to his movements like he’s trying to throw a spin bowl. If the unathletic little nerd was capable of throwing a ball in a masculine way, of course. I’ve never felt that technique before, it’s an unusual move and working disturbingly well.

I let out a furious hiss as he stops, dropping his hand down to firmly hold the base of my erection. What the hell’s the bastard doing, I’m nearly there, what’s he playing at?

When his tongue dances over the head of my cock I nearly yelp out. My eyes fly open and I sit up slightly, watching him. He’s tentatively licking at me, his obvious inexperience making him clumsy and nervous. Part of me wants to scream at him that’s he’s obviously had this done to him before (once by me, after all) and he shouldn’t be so goddamn cautious, like he thinks I’m some sort of undetonated bomb. Although that’s not too far from the truth. But I’m also rather enjoying how hesitant he’s being, there’s something… somehow both hot and sweet about it. The fact that he’s not done it before and is now trying it to help is… oh…

He scrapes his front teeth softly over the head of my cock and then, apparently building up enough courage, wraps his lips around me and dips his head.

Oh God. Oh God. I close my eyes and drop my head back. He’s sucking hard and maladroitly slurping and lapping at my cock in his mouth. Shit. Shit shit shit, I’m… well, apparently I’m about to come just from this, like a fucking teenager.

I grunt out his name, trying to warn him. I’m not entirely sure he picked up on it either, continuing to try to dip his head and probably not quite understanding the snarled out “Jaydrrr” noise I desperately make. Well, dammit, I tried.

I orgasm hard, screwing my eyes shut as I do so. The kid tries as well, he’s a trooper, he doesn’t immediately panic when I fill his mouth and I feel him swallow, but then he pulls off and makes a choking noise as I continue to spill onto my stomach. I shiver to myself, aftershocks running through me as I listen to his ragged breathing.

I finally drag myself back to full awareness, looking down at Newbie, face flushed, eyes watering, still coughing. “Sorry, Newb.”

He inhales hard, fighting for breath. “’Salright, you tried to warn me.”

He staggers upright, breath still labored, and vanishes to the bathroom. He reappears a moment later, a damp washcloth in his hand and gently – almost tenderly – wipes me down before hitching my boxers back up over my hips. I force myself into some sense of awareness and check on him:

“You alright?”

I’ve closed my eyes, the exhaustion already trying to overwhelm me. He pulls the cover over me and sits up near the pillow, stroking a hand gently over my shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m alright.”

“Thanks.”

I nuzzle into his lap and he laughs softly. “Just returning the favor.”

He’s playing with my hair and I wrap an arm around him, snuggling further into his lap. The heavy, sleepy sensation is stealing over me, dragging me down. I struggle against it, enjoying the feeling of him being here, knowing he’ll leave as soon as I fall asleep. Usually that’s exactly what I want after… well, after incredibly impersonal sex, Jesus, that was ridiculously efficient (what’s 'Newbie' in German, he’s getting a damn efficient German sex nickname). But I don’t want it this time.

“Go to sleep,” he tells me, soothingly.

I can’t, I have something important to tell him. I express it as best I can, pressing heavily against his hip, probably hard enough to hurt: “Mine.”

As I’m dragged down into a mercifully deep sleep I hear him quietly reply.

\- - - - -

“Yes, your’s,” I reassure him.

The last tense stress lines on his face relax and he seems to abruptly collapse into unconsciousness. I stroke him gently for a bit longer, tangling my fingers through his curls and sliding them along his neck and clavicle, enjoying the firm, unyielding feel of his skin pressed against me. His arm’s still wrapped around me, forcing me to nestle against him and the headboard. I do kinda want to stay here, just stroking him and holding him as he sleeps.

But I can’t, no matter what I actually want. My throat still hurts and I keep absently licking at the weird taste in my mouth. It’s not… well, it’s not _un_ pleasant, just I’m not sure I’d give it a 5 star Yelp review, put it that way. It’s an odd combination of saltiness and pine, like someone pickled a tree.

I flare my nostrils. Also, it ended up coming out my goddamn nose, stupid alpha orgasms are apparently ridiculously forceful. I’m surprised it isn’t in my ears, quite frankly.

I do apparently like the taste enough to keep lapping at remnants of it behind my teeth and frown, giving myself a severe mental talking to. Stop it. I can’t keep calling everyone else perverts if I start acting like this too, and I’ve been quite enjoying my sexual moral high ground. I can probably blame omega somethingorothers for this, but I’m still _doing_ it.

I carefully extricate myself from his grasp and gently support his head onto the pillow as I slide out from underneath him. He grumbles something and then falls back into a peaceful sleep, so I go steal some of his mouthwash so I can eliminate any temptation to be a filthy bastard. Once I’ve thoroughly washed my mouth out I glance into the bedroom and see him moving fitfully, still asleep, but clearly not deeply so. I sigh and walk back in, noticing him relax as I do so.

Oh, great. Fucking alpha. He’s presumably not sleeping because his stupid alpha lizard brain thinks I’m not around to protect, despite the fact he’s currently utterly useless and would be a massive vulnerability rather than any sort of protective force. What exactly is he gonna do, lean heavily on someone? Snore at them? Presumably his stupid alpha sensibilities have figured out how I smell on inhibitors as well, judging by him still getting aroused without me giving off pheromones and seems to know it's still me in the room with him now without me stinking of pomegranates. I guess I still smell slightly omega to him or something. I frown at him, then go retrieve the top I’ve had on under my scrubs today, putting it into the bed with him. He immediately rolls over and lies on it, burying his face into it.

I smirk. I’ll use this against him somehow when he’s next ranting at me, I’ll say something innocuously about tucking a child into bed and a comfort blankie. He’ll be furious.

I glance at his shirt on the floor and pick it up. Fair’s fair. This is mine now.

\- - - - -

“God, Bambi, how long have you spent with Doctor Cox today? You stink.”

“Uh. Sorry, you know I can't smell stuff like that.”

_Don’t let her smell my backpack that has his shirt in._

I quickly dropkick my backpack into my bedroom and go over to the couch, relieved I used the mouthwash. I don’t know if she’d be able to pick up on the smell of… of _that_ and I don’t want to find out.

“He… er, he leant on me near the end of his shift, he was kinda tired. It’s probably from that.”

There’ll already have been gossip about how utterly frazzled Doctor Cox was today, so that’s believable.

“Right,” she gives me a disgusted look. “Whatever. Stinking alphas. Anyway, much gossip from today?”

I frown. “Other than Doctor Cox being so tired he deigned to touch me? Not really. The Janitor’s gone insane, but that’s standard, as you know.”

“How was it between you and Elliot?”

“Oh. Y’know. Awkward.”

“Bambi…”

“I know, I know. Bad idea, as you’re all telling me. Can I at least make a bad decision on my own?”

She looks like she’s tempted to say something, then stops herself in an unusual show of self-restraint. Not like her to hold back on an opportunity to tell me what to do and go all 'Carla from the block' on my ass.

“Have you been at home on the couch all day in your jammies?”

She lifts an eyebrow. “Yeah. Problem with that?”

“Not really, I’m mainly jealous.”

She laughs. “Turk’ll be home soon, I asked him to pick up dim sum. Want some?”

“You know it.” I grin at her. “Can you get him to stop getting me to cook, please? We all know what happens.”

“Sure you aren’t an alpha, Bambi? You’re so useless sometimes.”

\- - - - -

I awake after an amazing sleep, which may or may not have been because I fell asleep snuggled up to Doctor Cox’s shirt. Oh, and also that I jacked off with it over my face beforehand… I hide the shirt in my wardrobe, wrapped in another plastic bag in an attempt to preserve the scent of it before I get onto Sasha and drive to work.

Iolite’s sat on the bench outside again. I’ve not spoken to her in a while and I feel a flash of guilt about that. I’ve been wrapped up in my own stuff so much and haven’t checked on her. I’ve got a while before my shift starts and so I walk over to her.

“Hi.”

She glances up at me in surprise, her eyes widening. She’s looking oddly colorless today compared to usual, wearing a long gray sweater that comes down past her hips and black leggings. She’s wearing a series of rainbow colored earrings up both ears, but otherwise is unusually monochromatic. Even the ankle boots are gray, just with occasional pink butterfly studded up them.

“Hi. You don’t usually talk to me here. Is everything okay?”

I sit down on the bench next to her. “Yeah, everything’s fine. I just… I’ve had some stuff on and I realized I’d not spoken to you in a while. I wanted to check you were okay.”

She tips her head to one side. “I’m okay. Feeling a bit… clearer. I still miss her.”

“Of course you do.”

She’s staring at me intently, looking confused. An odd grin runs over her face and she inches closer, studying my eyes and inhaling gently. “You’ve been getting nasty with someone, haven’t you?”

“What?”

She narrows her eyes, inhaling again. “You totally have. Your eyes look different and you smell... different. Also, you’ve lost some of that stick up your ass fastidiousness that you had before.”

I flush, annoyed. Apparently I am actually a bit of a prude, she just independently verified it. Damn.

“You shouldn't be able to smell anything, I'm on inhibitors."

"I can smell you very faintly."

"Shit, really? I've just changed to a new brand, maybe they don't block-"

She shakes her head. "I've always been able to, just it's more a... a trace than a proper scent. Dominant omegas have a better sense of smell than alphas and recessive omegas, so we can usually pick up on it if we try hard. And stop changing the subject, the stuff you've had on was sexy, right?"

"Yes, if you must know,” I mutter. She giggles in response.

“So, what’re they like?”

“I don’t wanna-“

“Are they alpha? Beta?”

I glance up at her, surprised. “I… I didn’t think many omegas slept with anyone who _wasn’t_ alpha.”

She shrugs. “I sleep with whoever I want to sleep with. If you like someone you like them.”

I widen my eyes and she looks annoyed. “I’m assuming they’re alpha then. And what? Don’t try to shame me, just because omegas are told we’re supposed to lock ourselves in ivory towers of chastity whilst alphas are told to ‘sow their wild oats’ or whatever doesn’t mean I do. Think I’ve done most of the rainbow of genders and secondary genders by now. I've not got a lot of dominant omega male experience in my sexual scrapbook though, want to help me out?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Prude.”

“You really… hang on, how does a dominant female omega do it with _another_ dominant female omega?”

“Oh, you’re so innocent. You remind me of Amber, I had to practically counsel her after her first time. Told her it was shit for everyone and didn’t mean her ‘hoo-haa’, as she called it, was broken.”

I blink at her. “Shit for everyone?”

“Well, yeah. Obviously.”

“But it wasn’t-“ I shut my mouth quickly, but she’s already picked up on it.

“Oh my _God_ , it was your first time?”

“No. No, obviously not-“

“It was _so_ your first time. No wonder you’re such a prude, you massive virgin.”

“I’m not a virgin.”

“Not anymore,” she sing-songs back cheerfully. I frown at her again.

“I wasn’t before then either. I just hadn’t… y’know, done it as an omega.”

“Oh,” she looks thoughtful. “And it… wasn’t shit?”

“No,” I shift uncomfortably. “It hurt a bit after, but that’s not surprising considering how often we… uh, I mean…”

She grins at me. “You’re actually completely filthy, aren’t you? You pretend to be all prissy and a stuffed shirt and actually you’re a total hornball. Like one of those old fashioned guys who insisted the furniture wear pants so it didn’t inflame his ardor and then totally fucked the dog behind closed doors.”

“Oh, that’s disgusting… the poor dog…”

“Son, what are you doing talking to rabble-rousers?”

I jerk up onto my feet, seeing Kelso appearing out the corner of my eye, thankfully not overhearing the “dog fucking” conversation. I doubt he’d be impressed, Baxter’s definitely the only thing he genuinely has any love for.

“Oh, uh, Sir, I was just-“

“Young lady, exactly how long are you planning on sitting on this bench?”

Iolite shrugs. “I don’t really have a plan.”

“It’s not that I disagree with your message, but I question your methodology. You’re not actually achieving anything.”

Iolite briefly looks miserable, before defiantly glaring back at Kelso. “I _am_. I’m getting loads of hits on my vlog from omegas supporting me.”

“But none coming here, thank God.”

Iolite jumps to her feet, which has absolutely no impact due to her height; even wearing yet more enormous boots she only comes to Kelso's shoulder and he's not exactly tall. “What, you don’t want omegas around? You think we should keep ourselves locked away and-“

“I don’t want an Indianapolis. Or an Atlanta. Not here and certainly not outside my hospital.”

Iolite pauses from her furious ranting retort, a look of surprise on her face. “Not… not many people know about those. How do _you_ know about those?”

“Young lady, I am not completely ignorant of the news, nor am I a totally backwards old man, despite the likelihood you believe otherwise. As I said, it’s your methodology I have concerns about.”

I frown. “What’s an Indianapolis?”

“Indianapolis and Atlanta were both omega marches that… that went wrong.” Iolite replies slowly. Kelso snorts and elucidates.

“In Atlanta several recessive omegas decided to band together and attack a group of alphas laughing at the march. Apparently the alphas had been harassing them for some time and they eventually responded. The omegas were badly injured. And in Indianapolis, a dominant omega on the march went into heat. The others tried to protect her, but several alphas got hold of her and… and…”

“She was ripped apart,” Iolite says, dully. “A lot of people say the omega did it on purpose. Some alphas claim it was domestic terrorism.”

Kelso snorts again. “Alphas can’t control themselves, that’s not news. Whether she did it intentionally or not is irrelevant. Generally the stories were kept quiet. But I don’t want something like that happening here, you understand Miss FitzAlan? However noble you think your cause, I doubt your sister would want anyone hurt because of what happened to her.”

Iolite drops her head and nods. Kelso gives a slightly sad smile in response.

“Well, Doctor Dorian, you’ll be on shift soon. If you’ve had enough incitement to rise up against society then I suggest you get in before Cox eventually graces us with his presence, although God help me, if he hasn’t shaved today I’ll make him go back home to remove that hobo scruff.”

“Yes Sir.”

I’m halfway back to the hospital, following Doctor Kelso, before I realize what he just said and look back at Iolite. She’s still stood where she was earlier, staring blankly forwards in shock and she clearly did _not_ miss Kelso referring to me as… oh shit. She suddenly reanimates and starts hurrying after us. I shake my head at her desperately, noticing the two alphas who always hang around her both following at a distance.

“Hey! Hey, old man who’s unexpectedly _not_ that backwards!”

Kelso glowers back at her. “If you think that’s somehow flattering, young lady-“

“I want a check up.”

“What?”

She shifts awkwardly from foot to foot, nervous and not looking at me. “I… I want a check up. You can do that, right? I have good insurance, you know my family’s loaded.”

Kelso frowns. “Most dominant omegas don’t come here, we don’t exactly have the facilities for omega treatments.”

“I don’t need anything specialized, just a general check up. With a beta doctor. _He’s_ a beta doctor, right?”

Shit. Shit shit shit.

“Yes, Doctor Dorian is indeed a beta doctor.” He gives me one of his horrible, fake smiles and I know he’s thinking about the likely lucrative insurance claim he can get from Iolite. “There you go, sport, your first patient of the day.”

“Wouldn’t… wouldn’t a female beta be more appropriate? Or… or a nurse, maybe Carla-“

“No, I want him.”

“Isn’t it nice to be wanted, Doctor Dorian?”

\- - - - -

“You’re a _doctor_?”

I narrow my eyes at her. “Well, you can see that.”

“You aren’t wearing a white coat.”

“No, I’m wearing scrubs. Which I’ve had to get into ridiculously quickly, you could have _waited_ and not followed me around and tried to stare at my ass when I changed.”

“If I’d have waited you’d have run off.”

“Probably.”

“And you have a nice ass.”

“Thanks.”

“ _Why_ did you say you were a janitor?”

I sigh and look up at her sitting on the examination table as I crouch slightly to take her pulse. “I didn’t know who you were or whether you could be trusted or anything. You basically jumped on me and wouldn’t leave me alone, I was hardly going to tell you something even my best friend doesn’t know.”

“That you’re a doctor?”

“No, you idiot, of course he knows that. That I’m an _omega_ doctor.”

“Oh. Why doesn't he know that?”

“After all your vlogs on the difficulties of being omega you’re asking me that? I’m sure you can figure it out.”

“I guess…” she kicks her feet absently from where they're dangling off the examination table.

“Stop wriggling, it’s making your pulse spike.”

“So _no one_ here knows?”

“Until recently, yeah. Now one – actually, no, damn, two – people know.”

She’s frowning and then looks at me sharply. “Hang on. ‘Doctor Dorian’. My parents mentioned you, said they met two of the three medical staff who treated Amber. One was Elliot, I’ve spoken with her. The other was a nurse I’ve not seen. You’re the other one, aren’t you, the one who didn’t meet them?”

“Yeah.”

“You tried to save her.”

“Yes. I’m so sorry I couldn’t, Iolite.”

“Elliot told me you were the one who was speaking to her. That you tried to resuscitate her and got attacked. She called you JD though, not John.”

I sigh. “Attacked is exaggerating it a bit. But yes, I was talking to her. And yeah, no one calls me John. Apart from my Mom. And you.”

“That's alright, only my Mom and you call me Iolite. I can call you JD instead if you want. Did Amber see your face?”

I frown at her. “Yes. Why?”

Iolite smiles sadly. “She’d have seen what you are if she saw your eyes. I think… I think she’d have found that comforting, that an omega was looking after her.”

I shrug. “Yeah. Well. Treating her seemed to knock out my inhibitors, something about her pheromones seemed to completely nullify them. That’s why some people know now, one of my colleagues found me nearly heating and got me some more drugs to stop it.”

“Oh.”

I realize abruptly that I'm talking about the death of her twin sister and that she might blame me for what happened to her. That's why people think omegas shouldn't be doctors, right? That we're too distracted by our own biological functions to be able to focus? And... and I don't want Iolite to think that about me, I don't want her to hate me, I like having her weird, vague, slightly crazed presence in my life. I look at her desperately: “I was focused on helping her, not heating, I was totally-“

"It's alright," she interrupts me quietly, gently taking one of my hands and smiling at me softly. “Like I said, I think it would have given her some comfort. I know you'd have tried your best and you weren't focused on anything else. I know omegas can do the same jobs as everyone else." She snorts quietly. "Of course _I,_ of all people, know that. Thank you for trying, JD. From... from what Elliot said Amber was pretty much dead on arrival. You risked an awful lot to even try."

She's stopped looking at me, staring down into her lap and blinking. She seems to manage to gather herself a moment later, although there's briefly an odd, confused scent in the air. It's a strange blend, pain and anger and guilt and confusion, overlaid on roses. She looks up at me and seems to restrain the odd pheromone blend, going back to just smelling of rose petals.

"If her pheromones upset you so much then does how I smell bother you?”

I frown, inhaling. “No. No, it’s quite nice to smell you without the – er-“

“The smell of blood?”

I nod. Blood and terror and furious alpha pheromones. “Yes. Sorry. It’s almost like… like I did manage to save her.”

She smiles a melancholy smile again. “That's not your guilt to bear JD. So… this might be jumping the gun, but is your alpha here?”

“None of your business.”

She grins, apparently stamping down any emotion and pulling humor back on like some sort of armor. “Ooh, well, that’s a yes.”

“No, it’s not.”

“He’s whoever helped you stop your heat, right? I mean, it’s definitely a he, I’ve hardly seen any female alphas around and you mentioned you were sore-“

“There’s a female alpha around here somewhere…”

“Yeah, but not one who boned you.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “I’m about to take a blood sample, it’s really not a good idea to piss me off before I do that.”

“Oh, boohoo. Hippocratic oath, you can’t hurt me just because I’m laughing at your comedic sex life.”

“Stop it or I’ll make you give a stool sample.”

“Making me shit in a box isn’t exactly the scariest thing that-“

The door slams open. “Hey, Brunhilda, any particular reason you aren’t gracing us with your presence during rounds and chatting with your gal pal here instead?”

Brunhilda? Seriously?

“Um. Doctor Kelso told me to do a physical on Miss FitzAlan as a priority.”

He rolls his eyes. “Of course he did, Kelso’ll get more dough from you checking up on Sonic Youth there than me saving the lives of the next four poor saps who have the misfortune to stroll in here.”

I gaze at him for a second, relieved to see that he’s looking considerably better than yesterday. He hasn’t shaved though and I wonder if I should warn him about Kelso and his Cox beard hatred. He gives me a slight, probably involuntary smile in response.

“Alright, Frederika, just join us when you’re done. I need a hand with an electrocardiogram on Mr Warren.”

“’kay.”

I turn back to Iolite, who’s leaning back against the examination table and crazily swinging her legs again, a smug smile on her face.

“It’s him, isn’t it?”

“It’s not him.”

“It’s _totally_ him. Your pupils are still dilated, by the way.”

“… shut up…”

“God, you can do better than that. He’s so _old_.”

“Right, go shit in the box.”

\- - - - -

As I had expected, Newbie's brought me a little gift. Apparently deviating from scotch and literature themes, he's appeared at my door with a small colorful glass sculpture that he's obviously seen somewhere and decided will look appealing in the apartment. 

I may have omitted to tell him about his behavior being an omega courting ritual. If I tell him then I think he'll probably stop doing it and, to be honest, I find it kind of cute. Also, it means I'll have a sort of indefinite supply of scotch, which is no bad thing. Doctor Google appeared to imply that he'll keep doing it indefinitely, since apparently even after mating and bonding omegas quite enjoy finding little tokens for their loved ones. I revel in the brief warm sensation in my stomach and grin at him.

“Hello Bertha, come in.”

He frowns at me as he walks into my apartment. “What’s with the girls’ names today?”

“You’re being unusually slow, Hildegarde. They’re Germanic. Because of your efficient German sex tendencies.”

“Oh. I should have known it was something offensive.”

I take the little ornament from him, placing it onto the coffee table carefully and then pull him flush against me and kiss him hard. He responds enthusiastically, then pulls back, wincing.

“Your stubble hurts.”

“Oh, suck it up Gretchen. No, wait, you already did that yesterday.”

“Wow. You’re _really_ going for me never doing that again?”

I smirk at him. “Yeah, right.” I cup his head gently and stroke his hair back from his face.

“You’re feeling better then?”

“Yes. Slept like the proverbial bear.”

“So… you’re crepuscular and capable of hibernation?”

I roll my eyes at him. “Fine. Like a log.”

“So… you didn’t sleep at all because you’re a log?”

“Can I look forward to this sparkling battle of wits all night, Newbie?”

He grins at me and I roll my eyes yet again and kiss him. “By the way, Malin, where’s my shirt?”

He looks away from me. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure, Newb. It went walkabout all on it’s own, did it?”

“Yeah. Oh, the couch is back.”

I look over at it, absently running my hands under his shirt and stroking his soft, pliant skin. “Yeah. It’s been washed and dry-cleaned. You’re not allowed on it any more.”

“Oh.”

“Not without a goddamn towel on it first.”

He wriggles as I stroke a sensitive spot and I register that for later. Apparently he’s ticklish.

“I might not make such a mess this time. What with the inhibitors and… well, being slightly more experienced.”

“This time? Very presumptuous of you, Newbie.”

“Oh, sorry, am I here to play cards and drink scotch with you?”

That actually sounds like quite a nice way to spend an evening, but I don’t say that and just kiss his hair softly.

“Nah, you’re here to get fucked.”

He sighs. “How romantic.”

“Well, sorry Newbie. How would you phrase it?”

“My unorthodox treatment?”

“Treatment would imply there’s something wrong with you.”

“There is, I’m rejecting inhibitors unless you do this, apparently.”

I probably should actually check up on him. I pull him over to the couch and sit down on it, dragging him with me. He yelps that there’s not a towel and I pull him into my lap.

“I wasn’t actually being serious. But there, you’re not sat on it.”

“But if we start-“

“We’re not starting right now, Newb.”

I scrabble around on the coffee table and pull out the diagnostic light, shining it into his eyes. He narrows them at me slightly. “What are you doing?”

“For God’s sake, checking up on you.”

I stare into his eyes. They still don’t look omega, but there’s definitely something different about them. They’re… shinier somehow. Possibly slightly more so than a couple days ago.

“Have you had any side effects?”

“Um. No. The opposite, actually.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“These inhibitors don’t… change me as much. So, I’ve retained some of the stupid omega traits I had before.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m starving all the time again. And I can release pheromones.”

“What? No, you’ve not been doing that, I’ve been checking.”

“I don’t release them all the time like I do when I’m not on inhibitors. But if I have an extreme enough reaction or I try I can do.”

When I look at him slightly disbelievingly he sighs and then I get hit in the face with… oh, okay. Pomegranate, mating pheromones and frustration.

“Alright, I believe you. Stop it.”

“Can I eat something?”

“Yeah, sure, go help yourself to something.”

He immediately beelines to the fridge and I watch him open it and stare inside, apparently weighing up various options. I take the little glass sculpture from the coffee table and look down at it. Oh, it's a glass rendition of a pomegranate cut in half, the seeds shiny and colorful, refracting the light, the back a deep, rich red. It's actually kinda nice. I pass it from hand to hand, stroking my fingers over the smooth, curved cold surface of the back of it as I run my thumb over the raised glass seeds on the front and glance back up at him where he's still apparently choosing what to eat.

“But no negative side effects?”

“I’d say those were negative side effects.”

He selects an entire block of cheddar and starts eating it.

“I swear, Newbie, if you get acid reflux during sex I’m not going to stop.”

He glances back at me with his face full of cheese and shrugs, taking another enormous bite out of it.

“I’m not surprised your appetite’s continued, presumably it implies you’re still… y’know, functioning. Both sets of… er…”

He rolls his eyes.

“Well, sorry, Newb. I think it’s weirder that it stopped before, that probably meant you ended up suffering from malnutrition. Probably why you were so skinny.”

He stares at me. “You saying I’m not skinny any more?” he asks with his mouth full of cheese.

“Good God Newbie, here was me thinking being with a guy meant I didn’t have to deal with this shit. Gonna ask if your ass looks big in those pants yet?”

“No. It looks good. Been independently verified.”

He finishes off the cheese and looks back in the fridge. He _is_ less skinny, actually, but he now just looks lean rather than anything else. Probably won’t for long if he keeps eating all my goddamn cheddar though. Also, who's been looking at his ass? Or is he just saying that to provoke a jealous response? (And yeah, achieved, dammit.) He pulls a jar of pickles out and starts eating them, sat at the kitchen table.

“Seriously, Newbie, if you puke I’m just gonna keep going.”

“Ew.”

“Well, stop stuffing your face then.”

He briefly pauses and gives me a sad, wide-eyed look. “But I’m hungry.”

I sigh and place the glass pomegranate back on the coffee table before walking over to him, wrapping my arms around him from behind. He smells like vinegar. “Are you actually hungry?”

“Yeah.”

“You just ate a pound of cheese, Newbie.”

“I know… I’m sorry…”

“Stop being sorry and stop eating pickles. You will actually vomit if you eat too many of them.”

He reluctantly puts the lid back on the pickles.

“Good boy. I can make something or order something.” I hesitate. “Um. Maybe… we should eat… y’know, _after_. You know, if you’ve eaten enough cheese to keep you going long enough.”

“I may have.”

“You just ate roughly one thousand lactosey calories.”

He grins. “Depends how long you wanna keep going.”

\- - - - -

“Ah, fuck,” Newbie yelps, wriggling hard against me as I growl into his shoulder softly.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, just… oh _God_.”

He twitches, dropping his head down and panting softly. I lift an eyebrow and twist my fingers, feeling him release slick in response, my hand soaked down to the wrist.

“So apparently this still works when you’re on these inhibitors.”

"That... that would have happened on the old ones too. It's biological and, uh, oh, oh my God, that feels good..."

He’s releasing a shit load of mating pheromones as well, I don’t think consciously. Apparently he’s past the point of the inhibitors blocking them. I’m releasing them back and he’s rapidly becoming a horny little bastard and skewering himself on my fingers.

“Want to try a different position?”

“Don’t care. Fuck me.”

I huff against his neck. “Now who’s being unromantic?”

I pull my fingers out and flip him over onto his back. He stares back at me, pupils dilated, cock rock hard against his stomach, skin flushed and panting heavily. Jesus, he’s gorgeous.

“You ready?”

I catch his legs and lift his ankles up to my shoulders, lining up against him. He shivers in response and then nods. “Yeah.”

I thrust into him in one fluid movement. His head falls back and he gasps out an “oh” as his insides cling to me, hot and silken and sodden. I growl to myself, fully inside him, dropping my hands down to his hips to anchor him in place. Then I start to fuck him hard.

I’d meant to be gentle, careful. Not loving ( _obviously_ , not loving), but… his pheromones are pretty clearly telling me to fuck hard and fast, urgent and sweet, fugging my mind. My body’s very happy with this plan and apparently Newbie is too. He lets out a cry, his back arching against the bed, hands spasmodically gripping the bed sheets. One of his feet is twitching against my neck every time I hit deeply inside him. I turn my head and lick along the arch of his jolting foot and he _groans_.

I rear up onto my knees, lifting his hips with me, bending his body slightly. He scrabbles onto his elbows in response and braces himself against the bed as I start to fuck him with abandon, the slap of our bodies meeting hard the only sound in the room apart from his occasional gasps and my growls. Dammit, I want him to be screaming, I want him to be wailing as I fuck him. I can feel sweat breaking out over my body, heat boiling through me, my abs flexing as the pleasure pools low in my stomach and my balls.

Shit, I don’t want to orgasm yet, we’ve only been going around ten minutes, goddamn it. I want to draw this out. I’ve no idea when I’ll next see him and I want him to _remember_ how good this was, I want him to jerk off to this (preferably in Barbie’s bathroom at 0200, oh yeah, that imagery really did it for me). I don’t want to come yet, control it.

Also, I don’t know if that weird locking thing he did before will work off the inhibitors, but I want to find out. I don’t know if it will happen in response if I knot him first.

I bite my lip, trying to distract myself with the pain, slowing down to draw it out. Newbie whines in response, apparently upset at the reduced pace.

“Oh God… don’t stop…”

“Not stopping…”

“No… just… oh, shit…”

He wraps his hand around his cock and starts jerking himself off. Oh. Oh fuck. Fuck, that’s hot.

Well, screw it. We’ll just have to go again later, he can remember a longer session then. I start to almost brutally fuck into him and he throws his head back, his hand desperately moving on himself, his insides starting to clench and draw me in. Fuck, yes, the locking thing _does_ work off inhibitors.

“Oh, fuck, yes, keep going, keep fucking me hard, Doctor Cox, I’m so close, oh God, yes yes yes _yes yes yes yes yes-_ “

He clamps hard around me as he orgasms in thick spurts over his stomach, twitching and spilling and wailing. I growl and feel the knot inflate, fully locking me into place, then give in to the roiling, undulating massage that’s happening to my cock, coming hard, the pleasure making me grit my teeth and screw my eyes closed as sweet bliss slams through me.

The only sound in the room is us panting and I can practically _feel_ steam coming off the two of us. Fuck, that was hot. Pheromones still work as well, which I’m inordinately pleased about. That same synergy, the same unspoken coupling and understanding of what the other needs.

Newbie eventually breaks the silence: “You look in pain when you orgasm”.

I open my eyes and look back at him. He’s still panting, ropes of semen spattered up his stomach and chest. “Yeah. Well, you look kinda ridiculous right now, so don’t start with me.”

“How do I look ridiculous?”

“Well, let’s see. You’re currently lying on your back, come all over you, your ankles up over the shoulders of a large doctor between your legs. And you’re locked like this.”

“Yeah. This isn’t very comfortable.”

“You’re telling me, at least you’re lying down.”

He looks at me sorrowfully. “This means you can’t make food yet.”

“Oh my God, Newbie. Stop thinking about food, Christssakes.”

I paddle my fingers absently in the sticky fluid coating him. “Just eat this.” I flick it at him and he flails at me.

“Ugh, stop that. Grow up.”

He’s got come on his nose. I snigger to myself and he kicks my chest gently before wiping it off. I lift an eyebrow.

“Don’t shove me, Newbie.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that. You can’t punch me in the face from here.”

“No, but you are very vulnerable right now.”

“So’re you.”

“Hmn. Not the same.” I grin at him. “You see, somebody was a bit squirmy earlier when I had my hands all over them. Are you ticklish by any chance, Newbie?”

“No.”

His poker face is terrible. Pretty soon thereafter my apartment is filled with the sound of him giggling, shrieking and finally threatening me that he will actually puke from laughing soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Readers were very concerned about the couch, so will be relieved that it has returned alive and well. Ish. 
> 
> I have a bit of a soft spot for JD looking after Doctor Cox, despite poor JD really not getting any sort of thanks for it. I really enjoyed writing the scene where he basically takes him home and tucks him in (with an X-rated addition, because... y'know, sex). And I think the closest to Newbie in German is "Neuling", which is actually quite cute.
> 
> Iolite commenting on JD means that someone *finally* calls him out for being a massive hypocrite by saying everyone else is a pervert. She's not hugely serious when she's hitting on him, if you were wondering, but does think he's cute and is pretty straight-forward about it. Also, unsure why I have JD call Iolite an idiot so often, but it's apparently part of their dynamic. If you were wondering, she's generally called Io. Mica does this wayyyy back in "My Alphas and Omegas" when he mentions her in passing in an unflattering light.


	17. 17. My Car Crash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How the hell is it September? When did that happen?

**My Unorthodox Treatment**

**by RumCove**

**My Car Crash**

Disclaimer: Scrubs original characters belong to Bill Lawrence and NBC/ABC/Doozer Productions etc. Basically, not owned by me. I own the original characters in this work.

So, turns out the stroke of genius ‘Elliot and JD are having casual sex again’ plan isn’t working too well. Keith managed to get up the nerve to ask me about it and when I said of course Elliot and I weren’t together he went on a rant about how I should tell everyone in the hospital that that was the case and stop letting everyone think that I and "the woman that I lo- er, make love to" were bumping uglies on the regular. I gave him a withering look, finally understanding what I must sound like to Doctor Cox most of the time. Wow, it’s annoying.

Once he’s finished I just lift an eyebrow and then ask “finished, Melissa?”, which results in him flouncing off and me grinning to myself.

“Don’t steal my material, Debbie.”

“God, how long have you been here?”

“Long enough. I see this is falling apart like Pee Pants at a wrongful death tribunal.”

“Yeah. I’ll have to think of something else. Um. Talking about bumping uglies…”

He gives me an interested glance and I blush.

“Yesssss, Newberama?”

“Are you free tonight?”

“Yeah. You stayed over two nights ago and ate all the damn cheese though, I haven’t bought any more yet.”

“Sorry. Um. If it helps it’d just be a flying visit, I wouldn’t eat the entire contents of your fridge. Again.”

“Got something planned?”

“No, just… y’know if I’m staying over tomorrow then it seems a bit risky to tonight… they might notice...”

“Oh. Yes. You need your shot tomorrow, right?”

He grins at me, the double entendre pretty clear. I stare at him and then flatly respond with “barf”.

“Contact your finishing school, Daphne, you need a rebate stat.”

\- - - - -

Despite Newbie’s assurances that he won’t eat an entire cheeseboard again, I buy some provisions on the way back to the apartment and make a seafood salad in the hope that I can use it to entice him away from eating vast quantities of the replenished cheese. I then chill some wine and have drunk pretty much a glass by the time he rings the bell. Unexpectedly, he’s carrying a block of cheddar with him, which he rather shame-facedly presents to me. I frown at him.

“I was joking about the cheese, you know.”

“Yeah, but… um, well, sorry. Have some cheese.”

I kiss his temple softly, call him an idiot and then invite him in and shove the cheddar into the fridge.

“You hungry?”

“You know I’m always hungry.”

He sounds slightly tired as well. I glance over at him and he trails up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist, leaning against me. I point the salad out to him, which he "ooh"s at and immediately goes and starts demolishing.

“You alright, Lisbeth? You seem a bit… deflated.”

“I’m fine. I just…” he waves his fork around absently as he chews a shrimp, apparently trying to figure out how to express himself. “I just feel worried. And… I dunno. Unsettled?”

“Is that why you wanted to come over?”

“No. I wanted to come over for sex. Sexy sex. Obviously.”

His heart doesn’t seem hugely into that statement. I frown at him and he looks down at his plate.

“Sex and salad, in fact.”

“We don’t have to have sex if you don’t want to, Newbie.”

“What else can we do that’ll keep the inhibitors from failing again?”

“Penny, I know you like to claim that’s the only reason you’re doing this, but as I’m sure you’re well aware, a lot of the sex has been – how can I put this? – recreational. I’m sure the inhibitors will hold up a bit longer if you don’t feel like it tonight.”

“I do feel like it.”

“Annd…?”

He sighs. “Okay, so I feel like it and I was feeling anxious.”

I try not react too obviously to him basically admitting that being around me calms him down. Shouldn't surprise me anyway, he has the same impact on me. “Why?”

“The Keith-Elliot-me fake triangle thing. People are gonna see through that soon, if they haven’t already. Then what’m I gonna say?”

“You could just tell them to mind their own business.”

“I live with _Carla_ , Perry.” I get a weird little shiver every time he uses my name. I think it’s a good shiver. “You know what she’s like. I don’t want her turning her entire deductive powers on me in one go, it’ll be like being under a microscope. A terrifically high powered one.”

“Fair enough.”

I watch him eat the salad for a while and sneak one of the shrimps. He growls softly and I growl back. He drops his head, chagrined.

“Well, we’ll think of something else then.”

He nods, pushing the empty plate away. “Um. Thanks. For the salad. And sorry for, y’know, growling.”

“Don’t growl at the growl-maestro, Newbie.”

He nods and I study him thoughtfully. “C’mon, come with me.”

I grab his hand and pull him through to the bedroom, pushing him gently onto the bed. He starts to undo his belt and I catch his hand, holding him still for a moment. He looks up at me, confused.

“You don’t want to?”

I do want to – quite desperately, actually. But he seems sad and I want to… take care of him. And, to my surprise, that doesn’t seem to necessarily mean fucking his brains out.

“Just relax, Newbie.”

I lie on top of him, fully clothed and start to gently kiss him. He kisses me back, tongue moving silkily against mine, not allowing me to dominate his mouth. I smile into the kiss and feel his lips twist in response before he gently nips my lower lip. I pull back to press soft, small kisses across his lips, carding one hand through his hair and stroking his cheek with the other.

It’s unusually gentle treatment from me. Whilst I’m not exactly rough with him all the time, there’s usually a fair bit of teeth clashing and snarling and less… well, loving gestures like this. Usually because I’m essentially mindless with lust most of the time. Newbie clearly likes it, starting to softly purr just from being kissed. I smile again and wrap an arm around his waist, pulling him as close as I can get him. His arms tentatively start to go over my shoulders, one of his hands on my neck and the other buried in my curls. I kiss the tip of his nose.

“You like my hair?”

“Yes,” he says, almost shyly. “It sort of… clings.”

He demonstrates, coiling it around his fingers and effectively immobilizing his hand. He’s still purring quietly and I suddenly wonder if I can do this whole thing without him breaking from it. I drop down to kiss his neck, feeling him shiver in response and continue playing with my hair. I drop a hand down to start to unbutton his shirt as I work on his neck, then dip my head down further, teasing his nipples, eliciting a little gasp from him.

I’ve decided what I’m going to do. As I continue nuzzling his chest and lapping at his skin, I unbuckle his belt, dragging it off him and then unzip his fly, shoving his pants and underwear down in one go, making him jump. I capture his lips in a deep kiss again, increasing the volume of the constant purr, undoing my own belt as I do so. I break the kiss to breathe, tugging my T shirt over my head in one movement and throwing it somewhere in the vicinity of the door before continuing, pressing my chest against his.

The general idea is to keep in contact with him as much as possible, skin to skin. I know he enjoys that, I’ve _felt_ how much he enjoys that. I do too, if I’m honest, although I’m usually focused on a different goal. This time I’m just going to focus on this, on the slide of his soft, supple skin against mine, the heat of him, the purring, the occasional gasps. He’s starting to give off pheromones and they’re different to the usual urgent mating calls. I inhale and move more languidly, more slowly, more sensuously.

“You like this? You want it like this?” I ask him.

“Yeah…”

I move over to lick his earlobe, hearing him gasp in reply. As I do so I shove my jeans down my thighs and try to wriggle both his and my pants off and failing.

“Hey, JD, a little help…?”

He squirms, kicking the tangled clothing off of both of us. I lie down flush against him, just concentrating on _feeling_ him against me, the slight glide of sweat between us, yielding satiny skin stretched over taught muscle, the rock hard, hot flesh of his cock pressed against mine, weeping sticky, viscous fluid against me. I growl to him and he purrs back, throwing his head back, baring his throat, a delicious, vulnerable show of submissiveness that briefly makes my teeth ache with longing. I kiss his clavicle and he croons quietly, stroking the back of my neck and smelling dizzyingly contented for a moment.

“Are… are you going to…?”

“Shh. I thought we’d try something different.”

I move up against him, resting more of my weight onto my elbow so I’m not crushing him but keeping our bodies pressed flush together, gazing down into his face. He looks at me, confused, eyes huge and pupils dilated. I grasp his hip and shuffle us around, trying to get the angle right.

When I thrust my cock slides against his, the heat and sweat and precome making us glide together smoothly. His eyelids flutter as I do so and he says “oh” quietly. I kiss him.

We get into a rhythm, one of my hands still braced against the bed to steady me, the other cupping his face, holding him in place as I alternately kiss him and watch his expression, ululating my hips in a constant roll against him, continuously building the pleasure and pressure. He’s gazing back at me, eyes clouded with desire, breath coming in little gasps, the purring now deep and unmistakeable. He's kept one hand settled on my neck, stroking and occasionally carding through my hair, the other resting softly on top of the arm I have taking my weight, carefully brushing against it in a caring, loving way. Everything feels oversensitized and slightly raw and, _God,_ intense. We’ve both dropped any snarky pretenses and are just reacting, constantly giving off pheromones that help to build the intensity of it. His expression is open and honest and vulnerable and I imagine I look the same, the same lost, wondering pleasure visibly etched on my face.

We’ve been going for… I don’t know how long. A half hour? An hour? Two hours? But he’s getting close now, his hips starting to stutter against mine, his eyes rolling almost alarmingly.

“Keep looking at me,” I breathe.

For once he does as he’s told, eyes fluttering open.

“Oh… oh, Perry, I’m going to…”

“Come for me, sweetheart, come on.”

Apparently on command he stiffens and then does exactly what I tell him to, shuddering and crying out as he pulses over his stomach. I watch his face, rapt, barely noticing for the first few seconds when I join him, then grunting softly as I have one of the most intense orgasms of my life.

We pant together for a while, the smell of sex and pheromones making the room feel steamy and hazy, my forehead resting against his as we try to catch our breath. JD wriggles slightly underneath me and I pull off him so he can breathe more easily.

“That… that wasn’t sex.”

“Oh. What was it?” I ask him, expecting some snarky reply about fucking.

“Dunno. More like a religious experience.”

Wow. Oh wow, that was girly. I do agree though, so I’ll let him have that. I kiss his cheek and go retrieve some toilet roll, wiping the sticky mess off his stomach and chest. He watches me doing so, a lethargic expression on his face.

“You alright?”

He stretches. “Yeah. I was just thinking how much I just want to go to sleep now.”

I shrug. “You could do. Will Carla and Bowling-Ball Head really notice if you don’t slink back tonight? I’ve got to go to the hellhole soon to start my shift, but you could sleep here.”

“They’re both on lates, they’ll get in around 0600. They’ll notice if I’m not around in the morning.”

“Wow. You basically live with your Mommy and Daddy, you know that Pumpkin?”

“I know,” he looks despondent. “Like I said before, I can’t afford anything else. I’m sure they’ll kick me out soon when their pity for the third wheel eventually evaporates.”

I stroke his hair and lie back down next to him. I’m not entirely sure how he’s going to react to what I’m about to suggest to him.

“So, I’ve been thinking about your whole ‘Barbie, Ken and Newbie’ unconvincing love triangle situation…”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Well. Uh. You could say… well, you could…” I growl, pissed off with myself at sounding so audibly nervous. “You could say we were seeing each other.”

He blinks at me. “Won’t that make people suspicious?”

I absolutely do _not_ feel a warm, pleased sensation that he didn’t just immediately reject the suggestion. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re an alpha. A pretty dominant alpha, won’t people wonder what you’d be doing with a beta?”

“Newbie, I famously do _not_ have any form of sexual relationships with omegas. I was married to another alpha, for God's sake. If anything it would reinforce people believing that you're beta.”

“Oh.” He frowns. “You realize Carla would try to remove your balls, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I mean, I don’t want that to happen. I kinda like your balls.”

“Me too, Newbie.”

He’s still looking thoughtful. “That’s… not actually a bad suggestion. Do you mind if I think about it for a bit? Not to be ungrateful or anything, just I need to figure out all the angles.”

He's so goddamn nervous that people'll somehow figure out that he's an omega. I feel a brief twinge of sadness that he seems so incapable of actually having any sort of relationship with anyone without having to constantly worry about how it could be perceived and whether it makes him more vulnerable. So preoccupied with it, in fact, that he doesn't even seem to notice any feelings _he_ might have outside of that. Judging by how he's smelt previously (and during the rapturous sex-but-not-sex) he's in love with me, but I'm still pretty sure he doesn't actually realize it. And that's sort of separate from the whole partially bonded thing, not that he'd likely admit it. So my offering to actually publicly admit to being in a relationship with him should result in his being euphorically happy that I'm willing to acknowledge my feelings for the little weasel, not immediately result in him trying to work out whether it'll blow his cover. I stroke his arm gently, trying to somehow impart some sort of assurance to him. I figure he'll work it out eventually, probably during some ridiculous daydream.

“Sure. No problem.”

“Uh. I still haven’t told Dan about us. Um. Sorry.”

I shrug. “It’s none of his business.”

“I’m worried he’ll try and send you an invoice.”

I grin humorlessly. “If he does he can fuck right off, Newberoo.”

“Yes. I tell him to do that frequently, it doesn’t work. He just thinks the heat clinic worked.”

I think he thinks I’m pissed with him. Possibly because he’s not being honest with an alpha (not _his_ alpha, not any more). I really could care less. And like it's news to me that he's a duplicitous little bastard, I'm well aware of the shit he can pull.

I get up from bed and stretch, pulling on fresh underwear. I don’t want to go to Sacred Heart at all, but if I do have to go I’m glad I’ll have that to think back on when I inevitably get pissed off with everyone there.

“You sure you don’t want to stay?”

I'm kind of hoping that the topless look will help in convincing him, I've seen him staring in a slightly spell-bound way before.

“I’m sure.”

Dammit, didn't work.

He hops out of bed and starts gathering his clothes. I leave mine scattered around, pulling a new T shirt and pair of pants out of a drawer. He's paused in putting his clothes back on and checks with me: “I’ll see you tomorrow evening though, yeah? I mean, I clearly need both of my ‘shots’ since you decided to be all… non-penetrative today.”

I grin at him. “Maybe I want to make sure you come back tomorrow?”

He kisses me hard.

\- - - - -

Doctor Cox tries to convince me to stay, but I really can’t, no matter how tempting, I just dry swallow one of my pills, kiss him good bye and get onto Sasha. Also, he wouldn’t have been at the apartment. If he’d been there and I could have been curled up with him (or having sex) I would have found it much more difficult to say no. As it was, the idea of being sat in his empty apartment where everything smelt of him but he wasn't there had seemed oddly lonely, so I rejected it as an option.

I really _really_ wish I’d stayed.

\- - - - -

I know something’s wrong the moment I open the apartment door. It’s pitch black in there, but I’m hit immediately with an absolute stench of misery. Abject misery, a similar smell to Iolite when she was in the rain, a horrible, soul-sucking unhappiness and betrayal. And it’s Carla. I know it’s Carla and I’m suddenly terrified, that she’s hurt, that she’s collapsed somewhere, that she’s in pain and scared and lonely in the dark. _Why_ would she be in the dark? She’s been slightly withdrawn lately, has… has she done something to herself? Why would she do that? I drop everything from my pockets onto the table by the door in a rush, starting to shake, wanting to have everything at hand in case... in case I need to call an ambulance, oh God.

“Carla?” I call out, hearing my voice wobble, my reaction to the pheromones in the air. “Carla, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

There’s no response for a moment and I hear my breathing speed up, feel myself panic, a slight whine at the back of my throat. The door closes behind me, plunging the apartment back into total darkness. “Carla? Carla, can you hear me?”

There’s a click from near the TV and a lamp comes on, illuminating Carla sat in one of the armchairs, her head bowed. I step forwards, relief making my shoulders slump. “Oh, thank God, Carla, I thought-“

She looks up and I freeze. Her eyes are red, sore from crying, mascara spilling down her cheeks.

“Carla, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Is… is Turk okay?”

“We’re fine, Bambi.”

I step forward again, trying to smile comfortingly at her. “So, what’s wrong? Why’re you sitting in the dark? Why’ve you been crying?”

She glances in front of her at the coffee table. I step closer to see what’s there.

Oh _shit_. My inhibitors. _All_ of my inhibitors, the older ones and the new type, spread out over the table, labels up. And… shit, is that Doctor Cox’s shirt? There’s some other things in the corner I’ve never seen before, little nasal spray devices like alphas carry sometimes as rut inhibitors. I stare at them for a moment, then back at her, knowing I look even more of a Bambi than I likely ever have before with her.

“I found them in your room, JD.”

“Why… why were you in my room? Also, those things aren’t mine.” I point at the nasal sprays, although desperately hope she just believes that none of it’s mine.

She’s started to cry again, big tears trickling down her cheeks. “Because I knew something was wrong. I thought you were in trouble.”

I blink. Well, I sure as hell am in trouble now. I frown, remembering the Janitor’s assumption. Maybe… maybe that’ll work?

I sigh theatrically and raise my hands. “Okay. Okay, you caught me. Look… I know this is probably real disappointing for you, Carla. I guess it just shows that you’ve been right about people like me all along. That betas really are assholes. I feel terrible about it, I really do. I kept telling myself I was just helping them out, but… y’know, obviously there’s a lot of money involved. And… you know, I’ve got a lot of student debt and-“

“Bambi, what are you talking about?”

I try to grin, extremely unconvincingly from the look on her face. “Well… I don’t know Carla? You caught me out selling this stuff on.”

She lifts an eyebrow. “You’re saying you’re selling this on the black market? It’s not for you?”

I scoff. “Why would I need this shit? Of course it’s not for me.”

“Right. And your name’s on this because…?” I shrug.

“Well, I need them prescribed for someone, right?”

“You didn’t prescribe these.”

“Well, _I_ can’t, no, only senior doctors can. So I stole some prescriptions. Y’know, they leave those pads lying around all over the place. I know, I know, it’s terrible.” I know I sound lackluster and add, with considerably more feeling: “Don’t tell anyone, Carla.”

She’s still staring at the inhibitor prescription. “You can’t collect these either. Only an alpha with ID matching the responsible alpha's name can collect omega inhibitors, I know, Turk’s occasionally gotten them for me when I’ve had a badly-timed heat. And they need to see an omega registration ID card in the name of the patient.”

Shit. I wasn’t expecting that. “I never knew you’d taken inhibitors.”

She ignores me. “So, you’re claiming that you’re breaking bad with this stuff, Bambi? And, what, Doctor Cox is in on it, is he? He’s the Heisenberg to your Jesse?”

“Um…”

“Because he _sure as hell_ doesn’t need the money. What, he wants a new model of Porsche?”

I shrug. “Maybe his divorce cost him more than-“

“Don’t go there, Bambi, Jordan’s got more money than all of us thrown together. She wouldn’t have needed anything from him.”

Oh, shit. This isn’t working. But I can’t admit to them being mine. She can’t prove anything. I just need to hold out, she’ll stop the inquisition eventually. I have a horrendously badly timed attempt at a daydream, squashing down the urge to visualize a ‘nobody expects the Spanish inquisition’ gag, with Carla furiously pointing out that she’s Dominican.

She’s still staring at me and I possibly did zone out there. I frown at her. “What? Look, I know it’s wrong and possibly against medical practices-“

“Selling inhibitors on the black market would be totally against medical practices, Bambi, but as you haven’t been doing that I-“

“Seriously, Carla?” I laugh, a sarcastic, slightly mocking laugh. “Why else would I have them?”

“Where’ve you been?”

“Huh?”

“Your shift ended four hours ago. Where’ve you been?”

“With Elliot.”

“No, you haven’t been. I went to her place. I got sick of waiting for you to come clean. _Keith_ was there, JD. You claiming you had a three-way?”

“Um. Maybe?”

“And Sasha wasn’t outside.”

“I park away from-“

“Yeah, I know where you park. Outside Doctor Cox’s apartment. That’s a hell of a walk to get to Elliot’s.”

I feel all the blood running out of my face. “That’s… that’s…”

“I _knew_ something was going on between you two. But I figured that you were still trying to figure it out yourself. I thought it was a terrible idea, of course, that he’d just hurt you and use you and leave you, chew you up and spit you out. But… but I tried to think the best of him. I was an _idiot_ , I let myself think that you were handling it and I shouldn't interfere when I was just being a terrible friend and not looking out for you because I had some of my own stuff going on. And that you were a beta that an alpha was possibly messing about and that somehow that was more acceptable, that somehow a beta would deserve that treatment more than... God, I'm such a _hypocrite_.”

She sounds furious. Hell, she _smells_ furious.

“I-“

“You realize he claimed to Turk that he’d been here to drop off a medical journal you’d been reading? One we found a few days after you’d gone to Ohio in the Doctor’s Lounge and brought back here for you? And other stuff? How the two of you have been around each other recently? How you’ve reacted to Turk sometimes, how freaked out you sometimes look when he's just around you? How much you freak out when anyone touches you if you aren't expecting it? How much you smell of him? I even purposefully wore your shower gel one day to see what he did, he clearly picked up on it, even looked confused when he turned around and you _weren’t_ there.”

“I-“

“I was waiting for you to tell me – as your _friend_ I thought you’d come to me, I got that you must be confused and scared – but I wanted you to. I wanted to ask you how you could stand to be with someone who’s so cruel to you, so uncaring. God, I hoped you’d tell me he was totally different when you were alone. And then I looked for you and saw Sasha at his place and… and so I went into your room. I thought maybe there’d be something there I could confront you with so we could get this all out in the open. And I found… I found _these_.”

The tears are falling thick and fast. I try to think of something to say.

“Carla, you’ve got it all wrong, we’re not-“

“ _JD, I can smell him on you right now._ God, I can smell… I can smell that you guys have had sex.”

I thought recessive omegas didn’t have such a good sense of smell as that? “Alright, alright, Carla. Fine. We’re gay lovers and we’re selling inhibitors on the black market to fund our expensive, heady, homosexual lifestyle.”

“Stop lying to me, JD! I _know_ what he’s doing to you, why didn’t you come to me? You must have known I would help, why have you been suffering on your own?”

“What the hell are you talking about, Carla?” I demand, exasperated.

“His name’s on the prescription, JD. As your responsible alpha. He found out, didn’t he? He found out what you are and… oh God, he’s been blackmailing you, been _using_ you. He’s been taking advantage and you’ve been all on your own because you knew what would happen if everyone found out. That you’d lose your job, that maybe even your friends would turn against you, oh God, JD, you must have been terrified, that-“

“No. Carla, no, nononononono, that’s _not_ what’s been happening-“

“ _Why are you still protecting him?_ Do you think he loves you? _Him?_ Do _you_ love _him_?”

“No, look, stop it. Carla. Seriously. I’m not… whatever you think I am and he’s not been-“

“Are you saying you’re not an omega?”

Shit, a direct question. I always edge away from stuff like this. “Why would you think that?”

“Are you an omega, JD?”

“N… no, of course I’m not.”

She grabs one of the nasal spray things and moves quickly over to me, tears still dripping down her face. “You aren’t?”

“No. I’m beta.”

“Why did you think something was wrong when you came into the apartment? It was pitch black, but you immediately thought there was something wrong with me. Why? You thought I was on shift, you shouldn't have realized anyone was in the apartment, let alone be able to tell I was here and that I was upset.”

“I… had a bad feeling.”

“You ‘had a bad feeling’?”

“Yeah. I could hear you breathing too.”

“No, you couldn’t, Bambi. And why did I very briefly smell omega fear pheromones when I didn’t answer you?”

“You smelt yourself.”

“I don’t smell like _that_ , that was a dominant omega.”

“I don’t know, some poor scared bastard went by outside and make a stink, don’t ask me.”

“Use this.”

She’s proffering the little nasal spray at me. I’ve no idea what it is, but the sight of it immediately fills me with foreboding.

“What’s that? Is that one of those alpha rut inhibitor things? I don’t want to use that, God knows what it’ll do to me.”

“You’ve not seen one of these before?”

I reverse slightly, staring at the thing suspiciously. “No. What is it?”

“It’s called… well, it’s got a very long medical name. Lots of people call it a ‘quick snap’. It induces heat.”

“Why the hell would you want to induce a heat?”

“Because when you’re trying for a baby it’s kinda necessary.”

“Oh my God, are you guys trying? That’s _great_ , Carla!”

“I’m pregnant, Bambi. One reason the stench of that man on you makes me feel so nauseated.”

I grin at her. “That’s _fantastic_ , Carla! Congratulations!”

“Thanks. Use it.”

I frown and back off again. Shit, I can't let that thing near me, I assume Carla doesn't realize how incredibly overwhelming dominant omega heats are to try this. “No way.”

“Why not? If you're beta then it'll have no effect.”

“Because I don’t know what that omega shit would do to me.”

She keeps advancing on me and I have to keep retreating, until eventually my shoulder blades are against the wall between my bedroom and the bathroom. Carla stops, staring at me. Then she starts sobbing.

“JD, why didn’t you _tell_ me? I could have helped, I can’t imagine how terrible it’s been for you and… oh God, I’ve let you down, Turk and I both let you down, we should have _protected_ you and you’ve been all on your own, isolated and omegas shouldn’t _be_ isolated and that disgusting, using piece of shit’s been hurting you, been-“

“Carla, _please_ , stop-“

“He’s been _raping_ you, alphas all think just because an omega sometimes smells like they want to mate that they should mate with _them_ , it’s disgusting, it’s-“

“He hasn’t been, Carla-“

I’m interrupted by the door opening and Turk calling through: “Baby, you okay? You were supposed to be in hours ago and you’ve not been picking up your cell-“

Carla uses my moment of distraction to try to shove the quick snap into my face. I desperately pull my nose up and away from her hands, hissing out “stoppit” at her.

I’m vaguely aware of Turk coming around the corner and freezing at the sight of what appears to be Carla trying to ram something up my nose. Desperate, I gently shove her away from me.

This, as it turns out, is a terrible idea. Shoving an omega in front of an alpha is always a bad idea, but if that omega is pregnant with the alpha’s baby then… well, Turk charging me, slamming me into the wall and yelling at me that I’m a bastard and to _not_ touch his woman is not exactly unexpected. I wince, grabbing onto the door-frame to my bedroom, planning to barricade myself inside. Turk, furious at my apparently trying to escape, slams the door hard to stop me.

The pain is incredible, like white hot needles being rammed into my fingers. It’s so bad, in fact, that I don’t even make a noise, the agony striking me dumb for a moment. I’m pretty certain all four proximal phalanges on my left hand have just been broken. Worse, the pain’s overwhelmed my system and I feel the remnants of the inhibitors burn out. There’s no itching sensation with these when they run out, nothing, but I know, because… well, I just suddenly know that I’m completely vulnerable.

I feel Turk stiffen and then turn to Carla, sounding lost. “Baby, are you hurt?”

“That’s not me, Turk.”

I’ve screwed my eyes shut from the pain and try to crack them open to locate where the bathroom door is. If I can just get inside there I can think, try to calm down, try to figure something out…

“Bambi, let me see your hand.”

“No.”

I stagger sideways, eyes still shut, slamming my shoulder into the bathroom door, starting to lever it open with my elbow. Carla seizes my arm.

“Look at me, JD.”

“Fuck off, Carla.”

Turk’s suddenly grabbed me again and is shaking me. I can hear Carla crying out at him to stop it, can’t he _smell_ how frightened and how much pain I’m in, _stop_ it.

“What did you say? What the hell did you just say to Carla, JD?”

I know I’m fucked now. I have one chance, I can use his surprise to my advantage. So I sigh loudly, then open my eyes, fixing Turk with a look. I immediately know I was right about the inhibitors burning off, both Carla and Turk audibly gasp.

“I said: fuck off, Carla. And fuck off you too, Turk.”

I let out a horrible snarl, the last defense of an omega that’s scared, a much worse and more threatening noise than any alpha can make and then, for good measure, intentionally release the strongest wave of pheromones I can. Carla staggers, catching herself against the wall and Turk drops me, eyes widening.

I reverse quickly slamming the bathroom door in their faces and locking it. Then I turn my back on it and slide down into a crouching position and stare at nothing, grasping the wrist of my injured hand tightly, too scared and shocked and miserable to even start crying. I pant for a moment, whine and then, horribly, howl.

\- - - - -

I get myself back under some form of control quite rapidly.

So, everything is fucked. That’s clear. No one is listening to me, my best friend just slammed my hand in a door and smashed the hell out of it and Carla is clearly hugely emotional and scent-focused due to baby hormones and has decided that my alpha is the devil incarnate.

Shit, I need to warn him. He needs to know that they know, I have to warn him before-

Shit. My cell’s on the table. My cell, my keys and… oh God, even my wallet. I can’t message him. I have to… I have to get to the hospital. Then get inside _somehow_ and tell him. I need to get to him. Or get to Elliot and her get to warn him. I’ll figure it out, I can figure it out.

Turk and Carla are both hammering on the door. I can’t go out that way, I need to delay them so they don’t go and… oh God, they wouldn’t make a scene, right? Would they?

No, no, they definitely wouldn’t. Right?

Shit. Shit. Shit, I can't think, it's so hard to think right now. All I can focus on is getting to him. I need to get to him before they do. I need to protect him, I _need_ to keep him safe. Need to warn him to deny everything. Oh God, I _need_ to get out of here, get away from them, I need to be with him. Now. 

My heart's hammering, making my hand throb painfully and I clamber up to the bathroom window, balancing on the side of the bath and wincing as my injured hand protests. Fortunately I am still a relatively skinny bastard, despite all the cheese and can wriggle out of the narrow bathroom window and fall heavily onto the fire escape. I glance back through into the bathroom, Turk and Carla still calling through the door, trying to get me to open it. Eventually Turk will break it down and they’ll see I’ve gone. Then… then they’ll… what? Track down Perry?

I already feel horribly exposed just being outside the apartment, I'm not on inhibitors, I've not been outside alone without being on the inhibitors for _years_. I look longingly back into the bathroom, a strong urge to crawl back in and hide.

It’s five miles to Sacred Heart from here. There’s no time for this. I hurry down the fire escape and sprint off into the night.

\- - - - -

I’m well aware that I’m emulating Newbie right now, staring off into space and daydreaming. I’m going to assume he’s not normally thinking about sex all the time, as it must make it very difficult to get any work done. I’ve managed about an hour of my shift with occasional, erotic flashes of what we’ve just done creeping into my mind. It’s slightly unnerving to be talking to an elderly woman about a recent fainting episode when your mind occasionally winks back to a close up of the expression of your protégé when he orgasms.

I eventually gave up, handed my case files to one of the residents (one of Newbie’s, I trust them slightly more than I trust any of the others) and decided to do some admin. Only I then ended up in reception because the coffee is slightly less like the Devil’s sludge here. I’m leaning up against the desk, emulating doing admin but in reality am mainly staring at the page in front of me and reliving this evening. I’m also trying very hard to not have a physical response to it (in any way, my standing around smiling would be noticed as completely unusual, let alone me standing around with an erection. I think I’m in control of both).

My mind wanders absently to how much better it would have been if he’d agreed to stay tonight, falling asleep in my bed before I went on shift. How… how pleasant it would be to come off a long shift and go home to someone, go home to my omega, go home to _him_ , warm and sleepy, curled up in my bed. To shower off the horror and pain of this place and just forget it all with him for a while, have something good, something clean, something right…

God, what’s wrong with me? Why have I gone all… all fucking Disney? It’s the pheromones, they’re messing with me. Clearly.

I twitch, frowning out into the car lot. There’s a loud noise, the screeching of brakes and a slightly unhealthy noise that indicates a car hitting something. It’s relatively busy in here and several of the staff and patients glance outside too. The Janitor looks out the glass doors, using his unnatural height to survey the situation.

“Hey, Stretch? Don’t tell me that someone just crashed into my Porsche because there will absolutely be hell to pay if they did.”

“Not that I can see, Doctor Overcompensation.”

Ooh, sassy for him. He’s clearly missing Newbie as his punch bag. I may or may not have tracked him down and threatened him with an extremely violent death if I _eh-he-hever_ found him doing that to JD again.

The unhealthy noise is explained a moment later by Carla and Gandhi flying into reception, having presumably slammed their shitty car into the railings by the entrance judging by how quickly they appear to have arrived at the door. I sigh to myself at whatever ridiculous drama is currently going on and glance down at the paperwork again, drawling out “hey, what’s the rush, has Gandhi just got an emergency hair transplant booked in? You need to get that stuff on stat, if you leave it then your natural baldness will begin to overwhelm the-“

The chart in front of me is seized and thrown violently to one side. I blink and look up. Carla’s standing in front of me, shaking with rage, her face wrecked from crying, Gandhi behind her, apparently trying to calm her down. A second later I’m overwhelmed with a stink of omega pheromones that make me feel, frankly, ill. Rage and pain and fear, all with annoying citrusy overtones, not pomegranate and so completely unacceptable.

“What the hell-?” I start to snarl at her.

“You bastard! You utter, useless, disgusting, pathetic, evil, lying bastard!”

What? Is this all triggered by a hair transplant joke? Geez, it’s not my fault her alpha’s bald. I give her a blank look.

“Carla, do you mind _not_ screaming at me in a crowded reception whilst smelling like some sort of bioweapon?”

“I _know_ what you’ve been doing, you monster.”

Although she clearly _has_ been crying, she isn’t any more. There’s a steely determination in her eyes, an absolute rage and drive to protect… something. It’s her ‘tiger mom’ face. I have a horrible stabbing sensation in my stomach about what this _could_ be about.

He said he was going to think about it. He’d have told me, forewarned me, if he’d decided to use it. Unless he had no choice and no time to warn me, I guess. But I’ve had nothing from him on my cell and he’d have had time to warn me of the impending Carlapocalypse. It can’t be that.

I lift an eyebrow at her. “Saving lives? Being the best goddamn doctor in this place? Regularly demonstrating how superior I am to your alpha? Winning ‘Mr California Curls’ five years in a row? Drinking what is q _uite possibly_ my own bodyweight in scotch over a one week period? Being the most impressive-“

Carla interrupts what was looking to be something quite magnificent. “ _I know what you’ve been doing to Bambi!”_

I frown, then glance nervously around the reception. The patients, of course, will have no idea why this mess of a nurse is apparently accusing a doctor of doing something to a cartoon deer, but the medical staff will immediately pick up on that, she’s not exactly sparing with that nickname. Shit. I have no idea what she’s found out and why that little bastard hasn’t warned me, but I need to close this down _now_ , there’s too many people here.

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, Carla.” I snarl at her coldly. Then turn to leave.

My movement’s arrested by fucking Gandhi grabbing my arm. I growl a warning at him, but the bastard hangs on.

“Dude, we can deal with this later. Where is he? Just tell us where he is and we can… we can sort this all out, but _please_ man, he’s hurt and scared and we just need to-“

I narrow my eyes at him. “What? How would I know where Nellie is, I assume she’s at home? And, _oh my God,_ Carla, control yourself, stop releasing those goddamn pheromones, you’re hysterical-“

“You piece of shit!” She’s hurled herself bodily at me. Jesus. I reverse, trying to avoid her running into me, a combination of not wanting to be put in a position where I have to shove her off, but also not wanting how she smells any closer to me. “You call him those girls’ names, you treat him like your bitch, you demean him, belittle him, you spend _all_ of your time showing how much better you think you are than JD. I should have seen through it earlier, should have seen what some bastard like you would do to him when you found out.”

Shit. Shit shit shit, she hasn’t just found out about the sex. Oh God. I need to shut this down now. She even used his goddamn name in front of everyone, the emotional moron.

“Shut _up_ , Carla.”

She slaps me, hard enough to make me stagger back against the desk and then roars at me: “ _You found out he was an omega and you’ve been taking advantage of him, you low life, abusive scumbag._ ”

I lurch forward, desperately trying to shut her goddamn mouth, trying to shove the words that’ll destroy JD’s life back into her somehow.

Gandhi apparently views this as an aggressive move and throws himself into me.

Something’s got him horribly riled, the pheromones he’s releasing are way stronger than I’ve ever smelt from him and presumably it’s not just the shock of finding out that his significant other’s been lying to him their entire friendship. I kick him off, annoyed, but he just charges straight back at me, hurling me into the desk, which apparently can’t bear the weight of two dominant alphas and collapses.

“Good God, Gandhi, get the hell off me.”

There’s screaming now, people running around panicking. I roll over, trying to scramble back to my feet, but Gandhi’s already back on me, trying to punch me. I kick at him again, then ram my elbow into the back of his head when this doesn’t dislodge him. He snarls at me and I suddenly remember what he said; _he’s hurt and scared, where is he_?

“What’ve you morons done to JD?” I growl. Because if he’s not at the apartment and he’s not here and he’s not contacted me then what the hell has happened to him? And he’s _hurt_ , when the hell did he get hurt? He was fine a couple hours ago. I kick out at Gandhi much harder than previously, no longer holding back, forcing him to roll off me with an "oomph". I bound to my feet, starting towards the door but the way’s blocked by Kelso, who’s staring at me furiously. I see Barbie standing behind him, looking physically sick with what’s going on. The crazy omega from the bench is standing by the wall just by the entrance, staring in shock with enormous glowing eyes at the total mess that the reception has become, anxiously wringing her hands and apparently attracted by all the screaming.

“Perry? What the hell is going on?”

I shake my head at Kelso and look over to Barbie. “Where is he? Has he contacted you?”

She shakes her head, eyes wide, horrified.

“Perry, Nurse Espinoza, Doctor Turk, my office. _Now_.”

“Blow it out your ass, Bob.” I growl, taking a pace towards the door, determined to find out where the hell the little bastard’s gotten to. Kelso grabs my arm.

“You take one more step and you’re fired, Perry. I mean it.”

I glare at him, then glance back. Carla’s still stood, furiously staring at me whilst Gandhi has hauled himself back onto his feet and is staring slightly shame-facedly at the wrecked desk. Although I want to – hell, _need to_ – find Newbie, I’ve no idea what the hell just happened. And this mess needs managing, if I just leave then God knows what Carla might tell Kelso. If he didn’t already hear.

I stalk after Bob, ignoring Carla who I know is still glowering at me and stinking of anger and righteous fury. Pissed off, I release a load of extremely annoyed and (unintentional) anxious alpha pheromones back at her, that makes her stagger.

“Dude,” Gandhi hisses and I ignore him too. I’m well aware us doing this, which Bob can’t pick up on, is the pheromonal equivalent of kids shoving each other when the teacher’s back is turned.

Shit. This is bad, this is _real_ bad. And I should be focused on that, on the extremely likely outcome that I’m going to get at least fired if not actually sued and made completely destitute by this whole affair. If it gets out that Newbie’s an omega then no one will believe I, a dominant alpha, his immediate superior and someone who spends way too damn much time with him, will not have realized.

But I’m not focused on that. I’m focused on the fact that, whilst Carla’s clearly a hormonal, insane mess, Gandhi was trying to ask me something before it all went to shit. And it sounded horribly like Newbie’s _not_ at the apartment, so where the hell is he? Has he realized that the game’s up and skedaddled the hell out of dodge? Is he on the way to Ohio right now? Is… is he planning on selling himself, the way I _know_ he’s been considering and not talking about?

Because if that little moron thinks he’s lost this then he might well do that. He’ll think it might help, it’s like him to try to help and not think about himself. And, ironically in this, not think about me either, since I’m now so tied up with him. We’re a partnership, Newbie, you little bastard, don’t you dare have skipped out on me.

Why am I going to Beelzebob’s office when I should be staking out airports, Christssakes? Although omegas can’t fly without an alpha’s permission – God knows whether he’d be able to use his medical ID to try to fly though, it might work. I feel a sick twinge in my stomach at the idea that he could actually be setting some sale up now, gritting his teeth to get it done quickly and to not give himself time to back out of it.

The idea of someone else being with him, some bastard hurting him, using him, shit the idea of someone else _biting_ him-

Carla’s glancing at me, the furious expression briefly reduced and I realize that I’m smelling quite potently of fear now. She knows me better to think that I might be scared of Bob. I give her a quick look in response and mutter “where is he?”. She shrugs, her eyes wide.

Shit.

“Sit down,” Bob snaps at us, slamming the door hard behind us all. “And you will tell me what the hell was going on in reception.”

“Bob, we don’t have time for this, one of the staff is-“

“Shut up, Perry. Now. And _sit_.”

I grudgingly sit, well aware that one of my feet is tapping anxiously against the floor, jiggling my leg, desperate to leave. How has this all gone to hell so quickly? A few hours ago I was more goddamn content than I’ve ever been in my life and now-

“Now, I’m assuming that because it’s _this_ particular trio here and I saw Doctor Reid in reception that whatever the hell’s going on is somehow linked to Doctor Dorian?”

“No, it’s about The Todd,” I growl, sarcastically, for once using that asshat’s ridiculous nickname.

“Perry, if I have to tell you to shut up one more time I’ll use one of those alpha inhibitors to knock you out, you understand?”

I narrow my eyes at him.

“Doctor Kelso, I want to report Doctor Cox for inappropriate behavior with a subordinate.”

I stare at Carla disbelievingly, opening my mouth to retort and immediately being silenced by Bob.

“Don’t you dare, Perry. Now, Nurse Espinoza, what exactly are you accusing Doctor Cox of? And which subordinate?”

“With _JD_ , with… with Doctor Dorian. I… I’ve found out something really disturbing and I’ve… and it’s pretty clear that Doctor Cox has been taking advantage of JD, probably blackmailing him, possibly even… even _abusing_ him.”

I widen my eyes at her and then back at Bob. He can’t expect me to stay silent when she’s saying poisonous bullshit like this, surely? And _abusing_ him, what does that even mean? Calling him girls’ names? Berating him occasionally in front of people?

Fucking his brains out? Oh. Oh, shit, she means that. She… she thinks he didn’t want it? She thinks _I’d_ do that to him? What the – wait, what-

“What the hell, Carla?” I snarl, furious. “Don’t you know me better than that?”

She glares at me, tears starting to form again in her eyes.

“Please elaborate, Nurse Espinoza. What exactly did you find?”

Shit, don’t tell him.

“Carla, stop-“

“Perry, shut _up_.”

“I… I found dominant omega inhibitors in his room. Prescribed _for_ him, by Doctor Cox.” I close my eyes, already seeing Bob’s furious expression, knowing JD’s fucked. Me too, probably. “I confronted JD with them and… uh, well, he denied everything and then-“

“And then he locked himself in the bathroom and climbed out the window.” Gandhi suddenly interjects. I open my eyes and glance over at him. He’s got an odd expression on his face and I suspect he’s just stopped Carla from outright telling Kelso that Newbie’s an omega. Thank Christ, at least someone’s retained some common sense.

“We couldn’t find him and so we came here to… to confront Doctor Cox…” Carla trails off, apparently only just realizing how much of an entire mess of shit she’s just dropped everyone in. Kelso’s staring at her, his eyebrows raised.

“You confronted Perry?”

“Yes.”

“In front of the entire medical staff? And patients?”

“Uh. Yes.”

“I tried to move it somewhere else,” I interject, knowing I sound tired and defeated. Bob ignores me.

“You used his name?”

I wasn’t expecting that question. I glance up at Bob sharply.

“Uh. Well, I usually call him Bambi, I don’t know if I-“

“You called him JD,” I confirm quietly.

“Did you specifically say he was an omega or you _thought_ he was an omega?”

“I… I…”

“Yes, she did.” I say heavily.

“So, let me get this straight. We have a potential dominant omega who’s been masquerading as a beta doctor and – in front of the whole staff and several patients – you’ve referred to this? Not just referred to it, but actually _named_ him and suggested that other doctors here have helped cover this up?”

Carla looks horrified, tears dripping down her face. “No… no, not like that. It’s just… _he’s_ a monster, _he’s_ taken advantage of JD, _he’s_ -“

“I’ve done no such thing,” I snap back, furious. “Carla, for God’s sake, _shut up_. Bob, Carla was hysterical, I doubt many of the staff really understood what she was saying. Can we please… look, if this is true and it gets out then the kid’s ruined. Can we please… oh, I don’t know, look into it quietly and-“

“Thanks to Nurse Espinoza and Doctor Turk’s actions, no Perry, we can’t. I’ve got no choice now, the Board will leave me with no choice, I’ll have to organize an inquiry. I’d have preferred to quietly look into this and – if true – discuss options with Doctor Dorian.”

“Options?” I snarl. Bob nods.

“To be blunt, if this is true then technically Dorian hasn’t actually infringed any medical or hospital rules. He’s not actually done anything wrong, apart from withholding certain personal information which arguably he shouldn’t need to provide. I could have quietly approached the Board and sold it as good PR, not to oust him but to have him working for us and as an option to potentially use if those civil rights people keep plaguing our doorway.”

“So…?”

“So if this hadn’t been made a public ordeal then that’s how I would have dealt with it. But now it has and it doesn’t matter that Dorian hasn’t broken any rules. If it’s true he’s an omega then the Board will demand swift and merciless action against him and any staff member who assisted him to try to stop any association between Sacred Heart and a potential rogue omega. God, if he’s done this they might even decide he’s feral, you realize that?”

“So if it’s true then you’ll destroy the kid?”

“I’ve been given no choice, I take no pleasure in this.”

I stare at him in shock and then glance over at Carla. If I feel crushed then it’s nothing compared to her. Tears are streaming down her face, mascara heavily smudged, she’s covered her mouth with her hands in a nearly cartoon gesture of shock and is shaking. Distressed omega pheromones are pouring off her and she starts to sob.

“Please.. Doctor Kelso, please, I didn’t mean to… please leave him alone, it’s not _fair_ , please, I don’t want to have-“

“Nurse Espinoza, control yourself.”

She stares at him blankly for a second and then starts to whine, the tears continuing to pour down her face.

“Good God Turkleton, get her out of here, it’s embarrassing.”

Gandhi, who’s been silent and likely in shock during the whole episode, gently takes Carla and starts to pull her out of the office. We hear her in the corridor, the sobbing and whining becoming increasingly loud and distraught. She suddenly freezes and then stumbles into the wall, starting to slam her fists against it from the noise.

When the howling begins I shudder, screwing my eyes closed. When I open them I’m surprised to see that Bob’s got the same pained expression on his face that I have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You thought JD got hit by a car running to Sacred Heart to warn Doctor Cox, didn't you? That might actually have been preferable to what happened... (Also, I did initially consider having Turk and Carla not have this extreme reaction but have JD so scared it was happening that he did get hit by a car outside the hospital).
> 
> So... in defense of Turk and Carla (the idiots): Carla's already been referred to by Elliot as the essential matriarch of the omegas at SH. She's basically the equivalent of Doctor Cox with the alphas and feels responsible for all of the omegas. She is incredibly upset that she's had someone under her nose who she (genuinely and very strongly) believes has been being abused by an alpha, so she's 1. hugely protective (as noted previously, omegas are driven to protect one another) and 2. incredibly guilty that she didn't pick up on it. These feelings are then exacerbated by her being pregnant, which has made her (and Turk's) hormones go into overdrive - I have tried to work in little hints that Carla's pregnant in earlier chapters, with her sitting around in her PJs all day (she had morning sickness), Turk being super protective and JD saying she smells "different" which he thinks is due to the new inhibitors.
> 
> Carla also - like most recessive omegas - thinks that dominant omegas need to be protected. She's even mentioned in an earlier chapter trying this with Iolite, who isn't hugely receptive. Whilst Carla doesn't necessarily think dominant omegas are the stereotypes alphas tend to, she does ascribe to thinking that recessives should protect dominants because they're so vulnerable. Which is slightly ironic, since I've intentionally written the dominant omegas as all having an underlying fierceness - they're only vulnerable when they're in heat and even then some of them (*cough* JD *cough*) are actually incredibly dangerous when in that state. 
> 
> JD's acted really stupidly. Not blaming him at all - he's extremely scared, not thinking straight and also is making decisions whilst appearing fully omega, which he's noted previously makes him anxious. Turk and Carla's reaction isn't entirely just on them. So yeah... don't be *too* hard on them, guys. But they have just absolutely fucked everything. Also, if anyone thought Carla and Turk under-reacted to the JD-Cox relationship in MCP; voila. Have an enormous over-reaction.
> 
> I am deeply saddened that Cox's rant was interrupted. I try not to laugh at my own jokes, but "winning 'Mr California Curls' five years in a row" did make me giggle.


	18. 18. My Worst Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should possibly rename this fic "Carla Is So Annoying" based on the feedback from the previous chapter. I know I know I know, her behaviour is really quite indefensible, but I do feel a bit sorry for her. And, if it helps, she feels utterly terrible now.
> 
> This chapter is quite angsty. 
> 
> I appear to have quite a high base level of angst content, so just a warning...

**My Unorthodox Treatment**

**by RumCove**

**My Worst Day**

Disclaimer: Scrubs original characters belong to Bill Lawrence and NBC/ABC/Doozer Productions etc. Basically, not owned by me. I own the original characters in this work.

“Did you know?”

I look at Bob blankly, listening to Carla’s diminishing whines as Gandhi presumably drags her away. He frowns at me.

“You’re a dominant alpha, Perry, are you saying you couldn’t smell a dominant omega?”

I shrug. “So you think Newbie is an omega?”

“I think that’s what needs looking into. And if he is then I need to know.”

“He always smelt like a beta, Bob. He had beta girlfriends, never took time off for heats, his eyes looked normal, hell Bob, the kid was a poster beta. He’s a bit girly and emotional sometimes, sure, but nothing that would… well, y’know…”

“But you spent most time with him out of all the staff.”

“Well, technically that would be Gandhi and Carla. But yeah, he came to me for advice. Never came to me about being an omega.”

“I’m going to have to look into this, Perry.”

“And you can’t be persuaded to-“

“I honestly have no choice. You know me, Perry, no matter how much we antagonize one another, I do the right thing for the hospital. Hell, I really quite like that dorky bastard. I’m not comfortable doing this, but like I said, I’ve got no choice.”

I stare at him, for once horribly tempted to plead with him. But he’s right, I know he’s right. He’s got no options thanks to what’s just very publicly happened.

“Your name was on the prescriptions, Perry.”

I suddenly remember Newbie telling me that he’d stolen prescriptions from all over Sacred Heart, that he’d even stolen some of Kelso’s (and good Lord, the kid has more stones than I ever gave him credit for to pull _that_ one off). I try not to grin.

“I can’t say I always keep my prescription pad under lock and key, Bob. Can you?”’

He pales slightly. “You think he could have been…?”

I shrug. “I think if someone’s desperate then they’ll do stupid stuff, sure. And if he is an omega then he’d probably have been pretty desperate.”

Apparently desperate enough to climb out a bathroom window. Why the hell would he do that?

I give it one last shot. “Can we please… do this quietly?”

“Did you actually just say ‘please’ to me, Perry? I’ll savor that.”

I glare at him and he sighs. “I’ll do what I can. Like I said, Perry, I don’t take any pleasure in this. If I can protect Dorian I’ll do what I can. Although I have to warn you, that’ll be little.”

I shrug. “If he is a dominant omega then he’s not legally accountable, isn’t that the shitty law?”

Kelso gives me a humorless smile. “I’m sure the Board will try to make an exception of him if they’re as pissed off as I suspect they’ll be by this.”

\- - - - -

I catch up with Gandhi and Carla as soon as I get out of Kelso’s office, Carla basically leaning her face against the wall and silently sobbing as Gandhi tries to prize her away.

“What the hell did you do that for?” I snarl at them, as soon as I get within earshot. Gandhi looks awkward.

“Dude, lay off her. She’s pregnant and it was a shock-“

“I don’t give a damn if she’s carrying triplets, Newbie’s _fucked_ , what on earth possessed you to-“

“Look, it was kind of a shock seeing him like that!”

I freeze. “Seeing him like what?”

Carla looks away from the wall, her eyes swollen. “The inhibitors ran out.”

Thank Christ no one said that to Kelso, that’d be the final nail in Newbie’s coffin. Maybe his investigations won’t come up with anything, Newbie’s hidden stuff pretty well, he’s not even on the California register which is surely the first place they’d look. But wait, no, that’s wrong.

“What do you mean? He was due to have his shot tomorrow, but he took a pill before he left my place, I _saw_ him take it. They can’t have run out, there should have been enough in his system for the next couple days at least.”

Gandhi’s looking particularly uncomfortable. “There was… kind of an accident.”

I lift my eyebrows. “An _accident_? What _sort_ of accident?”

“His hand kinda… got trapped in a door…”

My eyebrows are making a bid to disappear into my hairline. “You mean you slammed his hand in a goddamn door?”

“It was an accident man, I didn’t mean to. But it… seemed to make him turn.”

I close my eyes, groaning. Enough pain would have overwhelmed the inhibitors, a biological response to try to get help from any surrounding alphas.

“He took more, right?” I ask, eyes still closed. At the awkward silence this is met with I open them, staring at the two idiots in horror. “He’s… he’s not out there somewhere completely unprotected, right?”

“The inhibitors were in the sitting room.” Carla says quietly. “Bambi was in the bathroom and then he climbed out the window when we were trying to get him to come out.”

My alpha is screaming in absolute horror and for once I'm in total agreement with the bastard. Panicked I grab my cellphone and Gandhi shakes his head. “His cell – and his keys and his wallet – were all in the sitting room too.”

I stare at him dumbly for a second, then turn on my heel, stalking out towards the exit, both of them following me.

“Where are you going, dude?”

“He will have tried to come here.” I snap back.

“He looked like an _omega_ Perry, why would he had tried to come here?” Carla demands insistently. I spin around to glare at her.

“Because he’d have tried to warn me. Any other plan he would have just waited for you geniuses to leave and then gotten his stuff. For him to go out without any inhibitors, without a goddamn wallet, he must have been desperate. He hates being seen off the damn inhibitors, it makes him stupidly anxious and unable to think properly because of it, which'd be why he did such a damn stupid thing like trying to get here. Trying to stop _this_ , you realize this is his goddamn worst nightmare? So yeah, he’d have tried to warn me, even if he was in all his glowy-eyed glory. Maybe he’s outside.”

“Glowy-eyed glory?” Gandhi parrots back. “Is that how JD refers to it?”

He sounds amused. This is not the time to be amused, so I just roll my eyes at him and then nod.

Newbie’s not in the parking lot. I was hoping he’d be lurking around the Porsche, but… but he’s not. I stare at it blankly, then, uselessly, underneath it. Nope.

The crazy omega’s vanished from the bench as well, presumably frightened off by the commotion that happened in Sacred Heart earlier. Her absence is, for once, frustrating. She’d likely have seen him if he had come back to the hospital.

I’m on shift, but screw it. I’m absolutely going to lose my job from all this, so I’m going looking for him.

\- - - - -

After an hour it starts raining. After two I’m soaked through, continuously trudging around the darkened streets between his apartment and Sacred Heart, finding nothing. Not a hint, no smell of him… nothing.

I’m constantly having to push down images of him somewhere, injured, frightened, in pain. Because that’s increasingly becoming the only explanation, right? Worse than the idea of him selling himself, infinitely worse, the idea of something happening to him as he was trying to warn me. Hit by a car, so badly panicked he went into shock and collapsed somewhere, hell, giving off so many frightened pheromones that some alpha picked up on him and went after him?

After three hours I stop, leaning my head against a wall. I hear the shuffling footsteps behind me and Carla gently puts her hand in mine.

“He’ll be fine, Perry.”

She doesn’t sound remotely convinced or convincing. The fact she’s been trailing around behind me for three hours pretty clearly shows how worried she is.

“He’s just gone to ground somewhere.”

“Where?” I spit back. “Where could he possibly have hidden?”

As a last ditch solution we go back to their apartment. He’s not there. Just his scent and his inhibitors and… oh, and one of my shirts, oh sweetheart…

I know I’m staring at it miserably, soaking wet and letting off enough distressed pheromones to apparently finally remove any doubt from Carla’s mind that I wasn’t… well, doing whatever the hell it was she accused me of. Which I'm pretty certain I'd be incredibly pissed about her thinking of me, if I could feel much right now.

Carla gently steers me into the bathroom and tells me to shower off, I’m drenched and shivering and in shock. I automatically, mechanically wash, using Newbie’s pomegranate body wash, quietly whining to myself as I smell it, flashes of memories of him overwhelming me. What if I never see him again, what if… what if he’s _dead_?

I’d know, right? I’d know that? This stupid connection thing we have must be able to tell me that?

When I step out the shower I see that Carla’s laid out some robe – absolutely Newbie’s from the smell of it – and taken away my clothes. From the sound of it she’s put the washer on. I’d feel an invasion of privacy from this, but since I’ve just showered in a room with a broken down door I probably can’t complain.

I come back out of the bathroom wrapped in the gown and stare at her dully. She passes me a hot chocolate and I pointedly lift my eyebrows at this. “Got any scotch?”

“I’m _pregnant_ Perry, for God’s sake. No.”

I grunt, then mutter “congratulations” at her and collapse onto the couch, a horrible memory of JD giving me that hot chocolate bourbon thing. Oh God, another one of his courtship tokens, why was I such an idiot, how could I _miss_ that? And apparently not done with tormenting me, my alpha hind-brain notices what I'm sitting on. Oh God, the couch. I should have hoarded the stupid disgusting couch, I’ll never see or smell him again…

“Stop it,” Carla snaps at me.

“Stop what?”

“Stop wallowing. I can smell it. You’ve given up, haven’t you?”

“He’s gone, Carla.” I point out quietly, sipping the hot chocolate and tasting nothing. “We’d have found him otherwise. He’s… gone or injured or-or-“

“No, he’s _not_. Stop it.”

I look at her miserably. I know that with anyone else I’d try to hide this, but not her. Not even considering how mad I am at her. Later I’ll probably have enough energy to start blaming her for all this, but right now… right now I’m too tired. Too sad.

“How long?”

I smile humorlessly. “Not that long. He really was very good at hiding it, wasn’t he?”

“You’re telling me. I _live_ with him. You realize how often I lectured him on how shit it was being a recessive omega? How much better he had it? I kinda get why he sometimes looked weirdly amused when I said that to him now. I thought he was just being an asshole.”

“He was being an asshole,” I mutter. “Being an omega doesn’t stop him being an asshole. _Actually_ makes him more of an asshole in a way, little bastard.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean the rat bastard could smell pheromones all the time, we just didn't realize. I let my guard down around him thinking it was safe, that I didn’t have to control it – well, I guess that’s why he so pathetically continued to believe I cared all the time. Because he could smell it.”

“How long?”

I sigh. “How long what? Since I found out? Just after Amber FitzAlan died, his inhibitors failed. Nearly went into heat, I helped him out.”

Her voice is icy as she asks: “ _How_ did you ‘help him out’ exactly?”

I glare at her. “Er, got him more inhibitors? Thanks for the vote of confidence in me. Again.”

She blushes. “Most alphas wouldn’t be able to find a nearly heating dominant omega and be able to do that.”

“I’m not ‘most alphas’, Carla, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. I tried to help him.”

“By having sex with him?” As I raise my eyebrows she frowns at me. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. I know the two of you have been screwing each other, I’ve smelt you on him enough to know that. And seen his scooter outside your place. Even Bambi couldn’t deny that eventually, after coming up with some particularly bizarre excuses before he’d admit it. Incidentally, you two were apparently running some sort of omega drugs cartel.”

I snort. “He never was great at thinking on his feet. I’m surprised he didn’t just yell that ridiculous phrase at you and then run.”

“Banana hammock?”

“Yeah, that bullshit.”

She’s still looking at me and I sigh. “Alright, if you must know, _yes_ , I did try to help him by having sex with him. The inhibitors were failing and… it was suggested it might help.” I don’t want to tell her about the weird half bonding thing we seem to be in, it’s private. “It was… it was a sort of medical experiment, alright? He agreed to it, not that he felt he had much choice by this point. He was already terrified by what might happen if the inhibitors critically failed.”

“So it was entirely motivated by trying to fix the problem?” She sounds skeptical.

“No, I never said that. There were definitely some… murkier motivations. From me and him, alright?”

“But it was a medical thing?”

“It started out that way.”

She’s looking at me thoughtfully. I sigh again, draining the last of the hot chocolate.

“It’s not any more?”

I frown. “When I last saw him we discussed making it… public. Alright? Not the omega thing, obviously, but what was going on between us. So no. It wasn’t strictly… therapeutic any more.”

“Do you love him?”

I give her a tired look and don’t say anything. I don’t want to and I don’t really know if I can even express how I feel about him any more. He’s just him. I feel how I feel about him. That’s it.

“Go to bed, Perry.”

“You stole my clothes, you knocked up annoyance.”

“Sleep in JD’s room.”

I blink, then stagger to my feet and collapse into his bed. I don’t blink back tears at the scent of him. I _don’t_.

\- - - - -

When I wake there’s sunlight filtering through the curtains and I’ve apparently started spooning one of Newbie’s pillows in my sleep. I quickly kick it away from me and sit up.

I should have slept terribly, but of course, I didn’t. I fell asleep surrounded in his scent, fooling my stupid brain into think everything’s fine. When it’s not fine. It’s _really_ not fine.

I pull the robe back on, frowning as I hear quiet voices from the sitting room.

“I don’t get it, Carla. Yesterday you thought he was about one step away from Hitler, now you’re all concerned about him.”

“Because I was wrong, alright?”

“Are you actually admitting you were wrong about something, baby?”

“He’s his alpha, Turk. In everything but name, from what I can see. How’d you feel if I suddenly vanished?”

“Baby, don’t do that. He’s nothing like me. And JD and him – whatever they are – are nothing like us.”

Oh God, the last thing I need is someone as horribly unimaginative as Gandhi trying to understand me and Newbie. I growl to myself and open the bedroom door, glaring out at both of them.

“Any news?”

Gandhi shakes his head. I sigh. “Have you checked the news? Any reports of-?”

“Nothing.” Carla says. “And I’ve called all the hospitals in the area, I know most of the nurses. No dominant male omegas have been admitted in the last 24 hours.”

“Has anyone called Dan?”

Gandhi frowns. “Dan? Does Dan know?”

I lift my eyebrows. “Are you actually serious?”

“I didn’t even think of that… oh my God, is that why he kept annoying JD at school so much?”

I shake my head, irritated. “Less of the pointless jibber jabber, Gandhi, just call him.”

Gandhi gives me a wounded look, probably because I’m now essentially in his home and ordering him around. I’d be pissed off too, if the roles were reversed. I’d never let him in my apartment though.

Gandhi Facetimes Dan with Carla as I sit to one side, listening. Dan picks up on the first ring.

“Helloooooooo Christopher.”

I roll my eyes. This guy is such an asshole.

“Hey Dan.”

“And helllllloooo Carla. Lookin’ fiiiiii-“

“Shut up Dan,” Carla snaps. “We know about JD, alright? Has he spoken to you?”

“What?”

Dan sounds considerably less chipper now.

“We know JD’s an omega. We’ve not seen him since last night. Has he contacted you?”

“Uh. Uh, no. Wait, what? How do you know about Johnny?”

“I found his inhibitors. So you haven’t heard from him?”

“No. Have you tried calling him? He… er, I’ve an idea where he might be…”

“He’s not with me, asshole,” I snap out.

“Oh, Coxer’s there too?”

I stalk over and glare into the screen at Dan. “Demonstrably.”

“Is that Johnny’s robe?”

I huff and glance at the others. “He hasn’t heard from him, he’s no help.”

“Would he have passed a message on somehow?” Carla asks. “Anywhere he could do that or would go?”

Dan shakes his head, looking bemused. “You tried his cell?”

“It’s here.” I growl.

Dan looks at all our expressions. “Look, I know you guys’ll be panicking, but seriously, Johnny can look after himself. Just because he’s omega doesn’t mean he’s somehow useless. He’s not exactly… well, your stereotypical helpless little-“

“Oh, shut it off,” I snarl at Carla and Gandhi, stalking away to the drier and retrieving my clothes.

\- - - - -

Gandhi gives me a lift to Sacred Heart to collect the Porsche. Miss Punk Congeniality is still MIA and I stalk in to check in with Kelso.

“Hello Perry. Finally remembered where your workplace is? Considering you went AWOL last night?”

“One of my subordinates has gone missing, Bob, I’ve been trying to track him down. How’s the investigation going?”

“It’s progressing.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

Bob sighs. “It means I’ve confirmed his education, his blood tests here, that he _isn’t_ on the California omega register. But it’s not complete yet, out of state checks take longer.”

A chill runs over me. “Out of state checks?”

“Yes, obviously, Perry. Nobody from California is as pale as that. Where’s he actually from?”

“Dunno. Michigan?” Maybe he'll check the Michigan register rather than the Ohio register now?

“Yes, some godawful Midwestern place like that. Anyway, those’ll take a little longer.”

I nod, then go retrieve the Porsche. I’m hoping against hope that I’ll find him slumped against the door of my apartment waiting for me, but… he’s not. He’s not here. The bed still smells like him, my clothes from yesterday are still scattered over the floor where I threw them, there’s still some salad left in the fridge that he didn’t notice (or he absolutely would have eaten it), but he’s gone. I remember my fantasy, finishing my shift and finding him curled up in my bed, asleep. Why, Newbie? Why the hell didn’t you just do that?

Maybe Carla would have calmed down after finding the inhibitors if you’d stayed. Maybe she’d have come over to my place and _not_ made a scene? Well, made a scene here, rather than at Sacred Heart. Maybe we could have avoided all this.

He was supposed to come here tonight so I can give him his shot. He was supposed to be here at 6. Will he show?

I feel a stab of hope at this. This was _prearranged._ I’ve even got one of the damn syringes here, maybe… maybe he’s just lying low somewhere like Carla said. Waiting to see what happens. Maybe planning to ask me tonight about what’s going on?

That’s not quite so ridiculous to think, right?

\- - - - -

At 1745 I sit in the spare bedroom, looking through the window out over the parking lot, watching, uncomfortably sat on the floor, hugging my knees to my chest. It’s raining again, a fine mist. If - no, _when_ he comes he’ll be soaked. I go retrieve a towel and put it on the heater so I can wrap him in it when he arrives. As I walk through the sitting room I notice the glass pomegranate sat on the coffee table and pick it up, smoothing my thumb over the comforting ridges of it as I sit and watch out the window.

Then what? I guess keep him here, tell Carla and Gandhi that he’s safe, see what happens with this damn investigation. If Kelso finds nothing – which is looking less and less likely – then he comes back to work and just explains that he was getting treatment for his hand somewhere? A spasm of rage runs over me at the idea of that follicly challenged surgeon slamming Newbie’s hand in the door. Bastard, how the hell can that be an accident? More like the pathetic bastard couldn’t control himself around his pregnant omega. Newbie wouldn’t be violent with Carla, even if he was terrified. Wouldn’t pose any sort of a threat. The only time he’s even slightly aggressive is when he’s on his heat.

And during sex, but yeah, that likely wouldn't have been happening then...

If Kelso finds out the truth then I guess deny everything then leave with Newbie as soon as possible. Start somewhere new, either keep him on the inhibitors or just drop them. It would depend on what he’d want. Would he really be willing to give up medicine, stay at home? He’d _hate_ that, but it would be safer. It wouldn’t be risking this horrendous, stomach-churning sensation of fear and foreboding that people could find out about him. How he could get treated, what he’d be risking, just to help a load of bastards who could just turn on him. Why does he even _want_ to do it, why does he want to help people when people as a whole seem so determined to treat him like shit?

I think I’m starting to understand all of his ranting about social justice. Took me long enough.

He’s not here yet. I glance at my watch; 1815. He’s usually punctual, but I have to cut him some slack here. He’s basically on the run. He’s allowed to be a bit late.

He’s just late.

1830: I don’t think he actually has a watch, I think he just uses his cell. And he left his cell at the apartment, so I definitely can’t expect him to be able to time stuff as well as he usually does.

Why have I never checked whether he has a watch? I don’t think he generally wears any adornments apart from his ridiculous Sasha bracelet. Aren’t omegas supposed to like pretty shit? The bracelet sure as hell isn’t pretty. As I’ve noted before, he’s definitely a defective omega. I should have bought him something, some little token like he was bringing me. Something pretty he could wear that would remind him of me. Something... something he could look at in the future and remember me by if he does sell himself...

At 1845 I feel a brief spike of hope as I see a skinny, spiky-haired guy crossing the lot, but this turns out to be a false alarm. I feel a twitch of hatred at the skinny bastard. He looks nothing like Newbie, anyway. Ugly fucker. I run my thumb over the ridges of the glass pomegranate, resisting the urge to throw it into the wall in fury, to watch it explode into satisfying shards, a fine mist of razor-sharp tiny particles and jagged dashed fantasies. This might be all I have left of him.

At 1900 I drop my head onto my bent knees and clutch the ornament tightly in my hands as the light completely dies. With my hope.

\- - - - -

Why are you missing, Newbie? Are you doing this on purpose? Are you trying to make me admit something here? That’s cruel. It’s goddamn cruel, Newbie, you little bastard.

What do you want me to admit, anyway?

That you annoy the hell out of me? That I was perfectly happy, in a relatively unhappy way, before this all happened? That I don’t _want_ to have this stupid connection with you? That I find it frustrating and irritating that biology can overwhelm me, can override my own better judgement? I know you understand that, you’ve said that yourself. That I resent it? That yes, fine, I did feel something for you before, but I could ignore it then. It became _so much_ harder to ignore and to resist after everything. That my goddamn feelings didn’t change in so much as just get stronger? This wasn’t an about turn, wasn’t a U turn, Newbie, it was just my foot getting slammed onto the gas without my permission. And, just like in that metaphor, it was terrifying and exhilarating and made me feel alive, even though I was relatively certain it would imminently kill me?

That I want this? That I want this _all too much_? That I resent how much I want this, that it scares the absolute shit out of me?

That this isn't about the omega thing? That maybe you have actually found that person who values you for you, not your biology or your gender or how goddamn unusual and rare you are? That I view you as much as an equal now as I did before I knew about all this? That it doesn't dehumanize you to me? That actually I respect you infinitely more than I did before because it's made me realize how strong you are and how dedicated and hard-working you've had to be to get here? How much you're willing to sacrifice and try to help people who would just turn on you if they knew the truth about you? Who'd treat you like you aren't even human, but you still _care_ so much that you keep going? I know you're terrified that I just view you as an omega now and nothing else. Well, I _don't_ Newbie, I really don't. 

That you’ve given me such joy and happiness that going on without you feels like I'm somehow dying, even though I’d never thought of myself as unhappy until this happened? Even though I never actively wanted this and sought it out?

That I’d do anything right now to know you’re safe? That I’d walk through fire just to hold you? That I’d lose all of it, the apartment, my career, even the goddamn Porsche, that I’d give it all up just for you? To know you’re safe? To not keep having these flashes of your beautiful eyes, lifeless and dull?

Jesus, to just see you looking at me in revulsion and then saying “barf” at me when I hit on you?

To hear you calling me a pervert and acting like you’re disgusted by half of what I’m doing when I can goddamn smell how turned you on sometimes? You’re an idiot, you know that? You’ve spent so long not having to control the pheromones you don’t realize how often they show how you’re really feeling. You massive hypocrite. Lying little shitty weasel. You infuriating, aggravating, manipulative, conniving trash raccoon.

What exactly do you want from me, Newbie? You know who I am, you know what I am. Better than most people, actually, probably better than anyone. You know I don’t do hearts and flowers, you know a smug little comment and an implication that I’m doing you a favor by you letting me fuck you is, quite frankly, a heart-felt declaration for me.

Good God, Sharon, you know this. You know _all of this_. You know _me_.

You know I’d throw myself in front of a damn bullet for you. I don’t want to, of course I don’t want to. But I’d do it, I know in a goddamn heartbeat that I’d do it. I’d do anything for you, you annoying, needy, clingy, girly, perfect little shit. I’d run headfirst into a fucking lava flow if I thought I’d get to… get to hold you the way I did yesterday, watch you fall apart in my arms from the pleasure, see your face as you orgasm, smell you declaring your love for me, even if you aren’t ready to say it yourself, either from fear that I don’t feel that way back or just not even really realizing it yourself. You're so obtuse, you idiot.

I’d do _anything_ , Newbie. Just let me know how and I’ll do it, I’ll damn well do it. What do you want from me? What do you want me to do? What do you want me to say?

That I love you?

Fine, JD, fine, I love you, alright? Now stop being such a girl and come back to me.

\- - - - -

My cell’s vibrating on the floor next to me. I pull my face out of my knees, glaring at the light illuminating the dark room. It makes my eyes hurt, they’re sensitive. Because it’s dark and I’ve had my knees pressed into my eyeballs. I obviously haven’t been crying.

I scrabble at it, hoping it’s Carla with news. My face falls when I see that 1. It’s 2030, so unless Newbie has become an absolute terror for timekeeping then he’s not coming and 2. It’s fucking Kelso. I sigh and hoarsely answer.

“Yes?”

“You need to come in, Perry.”

I feel a stab of worry. Has someone found him?

“Why?”

“I need to talk to all of the staff.”

“I’ve got plans, Bobbo.” To sit here in the dark and wait for someone to come back here who I know is definitely not coming.

“Shut up and come in Perry.”

He hangs up and I sigh. Well, here comes the shit. I know, with absolute certainty, that Bob’s found out about JD. It’s the only reason he’d need to talk to all of the staff. If he’d found no evidence then he’d tell me on the sidelines. And if he’s been found somewhere… again, no requirement for an all staff meeting, although likely some tasteful obituary somewhere.

I groan and drag myself to my feet. My ass has gone to sleep sitting like that. I look at my open browser page on my cell and frown for a moment, reminded of what I’d been thinking about earlier. Social justice and all that bullshit. Something in the back of my mind is niggling at me to look at something. I stare at my cell for a moment longer, then sigh and shove it and the glass pomegranate into my pocket.

\- - - - -

The great and good of Sacred Heart are mingling around on the second floor nurses’ station, which is the largest area and also tends to be free of patients. I’m guessing Bob’s called us all here because it’s the largest floor-space that there is in the hospital. One of the training rooms would inevitably be a better place to hold something like this, but none of them are big enough. I’m assuming that there’s a skeleton staff somewhere ensuring patients don’t all die or anything and there’s definitely a few faces missing around here. I frown and shiver slightly. I feel naked without my white coat. It feels weird wearing my usual clothes in the ward, although I have at least changed out of the clothes that got soaked yesterday, switching into a black shirt and gray jeans. That’s pretty much the extent of me looking in any way presentable, the stubble from earlier in the week is essentially a beard by this point and I’m very much aware that my eyes look red. I’m hoping everyone thinks I’m drunk.

I sidle over to Carla and Gandhi. “Any news?”

Carla shakes her head and I sigh.

“He’ll be fine.”

I glance around. “Bullshit, Carla. You know what this is going to be about.”

I catch Barbie’s eye, who’s standing around fiddling with her cellphone. She looks back at me and twitches her head slightly. I frown. I’m pretty sure she’s trying to beckon me over to her. Who the hell does she think she is? She doesn’t beckon me. I beckon her, dammit. I start to move over to her to find out how in the hell she’s grown the cahonies to try a move like that, but Kelso walks in, flanked by Sweaty Teddy, and I freeze up, staring at him with the rest of the assembled staff. Apart, I notice out of the corner of my eye, from Barbie, who puts her cellphone on the desk, close to Kelso.

What, is she recording this for posterity? God knows none of us are going to want to be reminded of this ever again.

Kelso clears his throat. “Now, you may all be wondering what’s going on right now. I’m afraid I have some news that you will find… difficult to believe. However, it is my job to deliver such news and to take the further actions required of me. I take no pleasure in any of this, but as chief of medicine at this hospital, it falls to me to ensure that standards are kept up and unnecessary risks are not taken. I have failed in this in regards to this particular… problem. Lessons will be learned. By all of us.”

I close my eyes. Shit. Shit. I put my hand into my pocket and stroke the glass ornament there, trying to drag some comfort out of the feeling of it's cold, smooth edges.

“You may have noticed that Doctor John Dorian has not been on shift today, as he was expected to be. The current location of Doctor Dorian is unknown. However, it has been brought to my attention – through certain allegations and then from further investigation – that Doctor Dorian is not a beta, as had been previously believed. He is a dominant omega.”

There’s a ripple, a wave of sound and muttering throughout the gathered staff. To my surprise, the moronic surgeon pipes up suddenly:

“He’s beta. He’s not omega, Sir. We’d have _smelt_ it Sir, he smells beta.”

Kelso rolls his eyes. “Obviously Doctor Dorian was taking inhibitors. From what we’ve uncovered so far, he’s been taking these since at least studying at college, likely earlier. He would not have physically appeared or smelt omega. From what we can see, he was capable of managing his condition to a remarkable degree, even to the extent that a casual check of his blood would not show omega pheromones without specific testing.”

Shit. Shit. Specific testing has clearly been done.

“His _condition_?” Carla snaps. “Being omega isn’t a condition.”

“Everyone knows omegas can’t be doctors.” Brenner sneers. “They’re too stupid to pass the academic requirements and can’t control themselves, even if they were capable of focusing on books instead of knots for long enough to study. You recessives are lucky we let you be nurses.”

Carla snarls furiously, echoed by Gandhi.

“Stop that.” Kelso snaps.

“I notice he’s _Doctor_ Dorian.” Barbie says, mildly. “Not _Mr_ Dorian.”

“Yes yes,” Kelso mutters. “Dorian is a qualified doctor, there’s no question about that. In fact, he did rather well at medical school, frequently top of his class. So clearly he at least occasionally wasn’t thinking about knots.”

His tone is cutting and he’s glaring at Brenner. I feel a surprising surge of respect for Kelso.

“I don’t believe it.” Doctor Wen says loudly. “There’s clearly been an error somewhere. He’s beta.”

“I can assure you, Doctor Wen, I’ve seen his registration card. Including a photo of him not on inhibitors. He’s a dominant omega. There’s no question of that.”

“Oh please.” Good Lord, when did the Janitor appear? “That little gnat’s a beta.”

“Who invited you? Dammit, go mop the latrines.”

The Janitor doesn’t move and Kelso clearly decides to ignore him rather than try to force him to do his actual job, glaring back at the assembled staff.

“Now, Ted has been looking into the legal ramifications of this which, it would appear, are thankfully relatively minor. Had Dorian been an alpha masquerading as a beta then we’d be in one hell of a lot of trouble. As it is-“

“As it is, the little bastard lied his way into a position he couldn’t have got honestly and was irresponsible and untruthful with patients. What if he’d forgotten to take his inhibitors and gone into heat?”

I choke down the growl that I want to make, my grip tightening slightly on the glass pomegranate. God, I hate Brenner. As soon as Bob fires me I’m going to beat the shit out of him.

“If he had then I’d have expected the alphas to control themselves, something which they seem to have a great deal of trouble with right now. I do not expect to be interrupted again, Doctor Brenner.”

Brenner glares at Kelso, but backs down.

“As it is, Doctor Dorian’s committed… well, what we can essentially see as intentionally withholding pertinent medical information. We see no legal challenge that could come about from patient treatments, Doctor Dorian has one of the lowest mortality rates in this hospital.”

I frown slightly. Although this is definitely going the way I was expecting in terms of absolutely outing Newbie in an incredibly public - and, likely in his view, mortifying - way, but weirdly he’s… is he defending him? He’s repeatedly making sure he refers to him as ‘Doctor Dorian’ reinforcing his status, been extremely clear that not only did Newbie pass medical school, but did well and has highlighted his track record. And been clear that legally he’s not done anything too horrendous. And slapped Brenner down. He could have utterly thrown JD under the bus, but seems to be trying to emphasize his qualifications and capability.

Since he’s Satan then presumably this is to protect the hospital rather than Newbie.

Still, it’s surprising.

“However… we have significant concerns over the fact that Doctor Dorian has been able to withhold this information from us. Had he volunteered it we would have been able to work with him to-“

“You’d have _knowingly_ had a dominant omega doctor on the premises?” Brenner sneers. Kelso glares at him.

“As I have quite clearly stated, Doctor Brenner, there is no legal reason for this to not be allowed. Indeed, I’d imagine there _is_ a legal case to not allow it. Ted?”

“Like I said, Doctor Kelso, it would represent discrimination to refuse employment to anyone with the relevant qualifications based upon their gender.” His usual whiny tone is more firm than usual.

“However, we have to take into account that extremely pertinent information was withheld that shows at best an irresponsibility and at worst a directed intent to sabotage our current practices. Whether Doctor Dorian agreed with those processes or not, he had a duty to inform management and colleagues about his status. He did not. As you are all aware, duty of care is one of the most important elements of medical practice and – I’m afraid to say – Doctor Dorian knowingly _did not follow_ this important practice. As a result… well, as a result, the hospital Board is demanding a full investigation into his activities and anybody who supported him. There will be severe ramifications for all involved.”

“No, man, you can’t-“

“Doctor Turk, I’ve made my position very clear.”

“ _How_ can you expect someone to volunteer information like that when there’s assholes like Brenner here making comments like he does? Do you seriously think that this is an environment where anyone would feel comfortable being honest about that?”

Well, Barbie’s getting feisty. Brenner glares at her.

“We promote an environment of equality here, Doctor Reid,” Kelso spits. Barbie rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, right. How many of the staff are alphas, dominant or recessive? At least 60%, surely?”

“Yes, Doctor Reid, but look at management. You have a beta chief of medicine and chief of surgery. The only alpha in a position of authority over anyone is Doctor Cox and that’s partially because he’s actually capable of controlling himself.”

Everyone’s staring at me and I’m well aware I don’t look hugely controlled right now. My uncharacteristic silence will certainly have been noted, as well as my appearance. I intentionally sway on my feet in the hope it’s assumed that I’m drunk.

“Yes, lots of betas, well done. Where are the omegas?”

Kelso stammers slightly then looks down. “Some of the nurses.”

“Exactly. ‘Some of the nurses’. How is that an equal environment when there’s not a single omega who’s a doctor? Well, not one who’s hiding it. And how many dominant omegas are there on the staff, Doctor Kelso?”

“Apparently one.”

“Exactly. One who didn’t want to put his head over the parapet.”

“Shut up, Reid.” Brenner snarls. “It’s clear you were one of the ones helping Dorian, you slept with him, right? Claiming you didn’t notice _that_? You two use a strap on or something?”

“Strap on five,” grins the idiot surgeon.

“Omega males are exactly the same as beta males externally, you moron.” Barbie snaps. “No, I didn’t know. I’m just upset that _my friend_ had to feel he had to hide because of how you’d have all treated him. Assuming he’d even have kept his job, which I can’t say I’m convinced of, no matter what Doctor Kelso says.”

“That’s enough, Doctor Reid,” snaps Kelso. “I appreciate that this is likely upsetting news, but don’t be insubordinate. I’m giving people the option to volunteer now to being aware of this… issue. Before we start a full scale investigation. We will be more lenient to those who volunteered their involvement and any information around… around how we can avoid such a situation in future.”

“Improve your omega hunting capabilities, you mean?” Barbie demands.

“Shut _up_ , Doctor Reid. Is anyone going to come forward?”

There’s a sullen silence, with the entire staff glaring at Kelso resentfully. The majority, I realize with a jolt, are annoyed at the situation. Sanders seems to be actively furious that it's even being brought up, glaring angrily at Kelso all the way through his announcement. Brenner’s been the lone voice of astonishment and fury that an omega dared ‘rise above their station’ or whatever shit he’s currently thinking. The rest… well, they seem mainly shocked and annoyed, particularly having already been told that Newbie’s only real crime is not declaring something, which plenty of them will be guilty of too.

I hate this hellhole, but sometimes the people in it give me a glimmer of hope.

Kelso’s pointedly staring at me and I ignore him. Blow it out your ass, Bob, you can’t prove a damn thing.

Well, apart from those damn prescription labels, but Carla’s already hidden them again.

“Let me be clear,” Kelso says quietly, threateningly. “Those who were closest to him will be under greatest suspicion. This is not a criminal investigation, it’s an internal matter. I do not _need_ to find evidence, you understand me? If those responsible do not own up to this then they may well find themselves in serious trouble.”

I snap my head back up, staring at him. What?

He’s staring pointedly at Gandhi and Carla, Barbie and me. Ah. Well. This changes matters then.

“Seriously, Perry, you’re not going to say anything?” Brenner spits at me. I narrow my eyes and glare over at him. “What, considering what a loud mouth you usually are you’ve been suspiciously silent. Are you claiming you didn’t know? You had a dominant omega practically panting after you all day and night. What, was the agreement that you helped him out if he let you fuck him?”

“Don’t call me Perry, you piece of shit,” I snarl back, my voice gravelly. “No, there was no ‘agreement’ like that. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I can understand why someone like you would feel the need to blackmail someone into sleeping with them, but I haven’t generally had that problem myself.”

Kelso’s staring at me. They’re all staring at me. I haven’t actually answered the question, after all. And suddenly, weirdly, I’m delighted. Newbie’s gone. He’s skedaddled out of the place, he’s not coming back. Of course, I’m going to find where the little bastard’s gone and track him down. I don’t need this place, he was one of the only damn beacons of light here for me, the brightest and the best. And, whatever Bob says, this isn’t a legal matter and so there’s a limit on what they can do. So. So… I don’t _need_ this place. But the other three… well, they do. And it would be just like Bob to go after Carla and Gandhi, even though they’re the ones that brought the whole thing to his attention, probably out of sheer malice that they’ve put him into this situation. They have a kid on the way and could end up unemployed. And Barbie’s screwed, considering… well, that she screwed Newbie. These idiots will never believe she didn’t realize, no matter how many times the biology is patiently explained to them.

So, I’m delighted because it’s all become extremely clear to me. Newbie would be horrified if his friends all suffered because of him. Which they will do. Unless… unless some noble, incredibly handsome and talented doctor saves the day. It’s what I do, after all.

I grin suddenly. And, dammit, I’m gonna do it with a rant. I lift my hands up behind my head, lacing my fingers together behind my hair and allow the grin to ever so briefly become psychotic.

“Well… Bobbo. What can I say? Of course I damn well knew what Priscilla was. Geez, like I didn’t make it obvious with the name calling and the general belittling? And yeah, I helped him out. Now, I know it’s hard for someone like you to understand why I’d do that. And hell, maybe I thought that it’s unfair the way omegas get treated and maybe it’s because I knew the kid was a damn good doctor. Maybe it’s because he actually gave a crap, unlike most of the morons that you have here, celebrating their mediocrity. Maybe it’s because he sometimes looked all sad and you know what a sad little omega does to a half-decent alpha. Incidentally Brenner, you sack of shit, the correct answer to that is that we want to help them out, not mount them. You get turned on by omegas crying? Probably a good thing, although in your case I’d imagine it’s tears of laughter. I’ve seen you in the shower and you sure as hell shouldn’t be talking about straps ons for Barbie, she’s got bigger stones than you.

But the _main_ reason, Bob, the meh-heh- _hain_ reason was because I knew how much it would piss off assholes like you and your goddamn Board. The Board this, the Board that, what the hell Bobcat? Here was me thinking a hospital was being run to help people and hell, I have a completely clear conscience that my actions made sure that people were being treated by a damn good doctor. One who never, _ever_ blamed his damn biology for anything he did, hell, one who even managed to treat a mangled, blood-soaked, dying dominant omega and _not_ lose his mind when half your staff were trying to fuck the goddamn furniture. And holy cow, Beelzebob, that shit just hits those delicate little omegas worse than it does any other group. And that poor little delicate omega was covered in blood and pheromones that would have made most of your alphas here pass out and continued trying to save that girl. So who the fuck are you to say who he should have ‘declared his status’ to when it clearly made no difference to what he could do. As far as I remember, I’ve never needed to declare being an alpha and Newbie never declared he was a beta. You morons assumed it and he didn’t correct you. There’s a spelling error on my driving licence, y’know Bob, and I’ve never gone and got it corrected. Should I expect someone to impound my Porsche because whichever drug-addled teenager at the DMV hadn’t had a good enough classical education to know how to spell Ulysses correctly? I’d imagine Newbie had a similar outlook; me raising that particular name always gets me some grief and I’m sure he had a similar view of being omega, no matter how much of an egalitarian, equal workplace environment you were busy promoting.

And hell, on that, we’ve made some frankly fantastic progress in modern medicine, but as of yet I’ve still not seem any definitive cure for ignorant asshole syndrome, which is what you and your goddamn Board all have a terminal case of if you think he would have come to you with _any_ chance of his not immediately being struck off and pilloried by you all. Or what, you’d have put him on a poster to try to attract omega clients, the way you did with Gandhi over there? To prove how forward-leaning and progressive we are here, when we employ human bouts of methane like Brenner here? I don’t think Newbie hugely wanted to be a poster child dominant omega, he just wanted to be a doctor and be left alone. And apparently eat pretty much everything on the planet, from what I can see. And possibly own a unicorn.”

Oh God, I’m running out of oxygen and I haven’t even got to the point of this goddamn thing, I’ve been enjoying myself too much. For emphasis I drop my hands down from my head and start slowly pacing towards Bob, glaring at him.

“And yeah, good on you, Special K, going after everyone he was close to. Well, joke’s on you. All of you assholes, actually. Newbie fooled you all. He’s got such a damn good control on this shit that a dominant alpha who literally roomed with him at college had no idea that he was on inhibitors. It was all me and him, Bobbo, all the goddamn way. And y’know what? I’m fucking proud of that. Of me and the kid. And you’ll never change that or make me regret it.”

Kelso glares right back at me, inches away.

“Are you done?”

“Yes. I’d imagine in all senses of the word.”

“You’d be right there, Perry.”

“Percival Ulysses to you, Bob. Well, Percival Ulysus, if you’re going by my driving licence.”

Out of the corner of my eye I see Barbie press something on her cell. What the hell? Did she record that rant? If she did then I want a copy. I wish it was on video.

I grin humorlessly at Kelso, who looks a rather odd combination of impressed and furious.

“Your move, asshole,” I mutter to him. Because I know he values me, I _know_ he does and now he’s trying to assess how much he can afford to lose me, considering I just rather epically fell on my own sword. Whilst sort of singing Newbie’s praises. If you squinted.

Squinted pretty goddamn hard, it must be said.

Also, I still haven’t actually responded to Brenner’s query about whether I was fucking him, because it’s none of their damn business.

I think Kelso may actually be frozen in indecision, staring at me. He looks back at the room, which has gone deadly silent, all watching us breathlessly to see what Kelso will do. He looks between them and me and appears to think. Then I hear the slight sigh he makes and the look of regret that briefly flickers across his eyes. I know he’s pulled that metaphorical sword I just fell on out of my body cavity and is planning to swing it straight at my neck.

“You’re suspended, Doctor Cox. With immediate effect. You’ll be investigated-“

I close my eyes, accepting my fate. I never really expected anything else and I was in too deep with all of this shit to expect anything else. But hey, I saved Barbie and Carla and Gandhi. That’ll make Newbie happy. Assuming he’s still alive, of course.

“Wait!”

My eyes snap open and I look up to the second floor double doors, which have just been dramatically kicked open. I’m not sure what I was hoping for – Newbie? Seriously? He has no sense of drama or indeed timing, it couldn’t have been him. He’d have tripped as well.

It’s the crazy grungey omega from the bench. Who is, inexplicably, wearing a tailored black skirt suit, her hair swept back rather than in the crazy electrocuted hedgehog style she’s favored up until now, some sort of large Bluetooth headphone in one of her multiply pierced ears. Somehow her attempting to look normal makes her look slightly more crazed than she did before and she looks almost comically short not wearing her ridiculously high platformed shoes. She’s gripping some sort of file and is flanked by one of her enormous alpha bodyguards, who appears to be filming her on a cellphone and wearing something that looks rather disturbingly like a gasmask. What the hell's that, some attempt to be anonymous? Bit pointless there pal, you're standing next to one of the most instantly recognizable omegas I've ever seen.

“Miss FitzAlan, you are now on private property and are trespassing,” Kelso snaps, apparently sick of the level of drama that’s currently pervading Sacred Heart. “I suggest you remove yourself immediately before I call security.”

“I’m not trespassing,” she responds flatly, her voice clipped and focused unlike her previous drawled tones. “I’m here on behalf of my client.”

“Your client?” Kelso rolls his eyes at her. “Please God, don’t start a load more of this ridiculous lecturing on social justice and vlogging, vlogging is not a career, Miss FitzAlan.”

“Yes, I’m well aware of that, Doctor Kelso. I apologize if I may have misrepresented myself; the vlog is something I do as a hobby. I’m in my final year on a JD program at Seattle School of Law.”

Sweaty Teddy whimpers, so I assume that this is a good law school. Although, quite frankly, just one that functions is enough to freak him out.

“Incidentally, another career that’s dominated by alphas that I’m managing to come top of my class in, despite my… what was it? My inability to focus on books because I’m too busy focusing on knots? Out of interest, which one of them said that, Elliot?”

Barbie points at Brenner, who’s staring at Candlebox in apparent horror. “Oh. Yeah.” She glances at me. “You have a point, he does look like he’s got a tiny cock. Not slander by the way, there's no actual harm. And he'd have to prove it wasn't true. Anyway…”

“Who exactly is your client, Miss FitzAlan?” Kelso demands. She frowns at him and shrugs.

“I don’t actually need to declare that. But… well, him, sort of.” She points at me. “By dint of bonded representation, anyway.”

“What the hell is bonded representation? You represent Miss Sullivan?” Kelso demands, confused. Flopsweat interjects:

“Bonded representation is usually deployed in cases when a bonded alpha or omega commits an act which can been prosecuted under criminal law and is a form of defense.”

Gruntruck looks bemused. “Who the hell is Miss Sullivan? And yes, yes, State of Florida vs Gilligan, Washington State vs Flanders, etcetera etcetera...”

“Gilligan was a murder trial!”

Sweaty Teddy looks horrified. Audioslave grins at him and if I thought my grin was psychotic then it’s got nothing on her.

“Yep. However, that’s not important. Are you suspending Doctor…” she flicks open the file for a second, giggles slightly, then continues “… Percival Ulysses Cox?”

“Yes," Kelso responds heavily.

“Why?”

“Because of his contract, Miss FitzAlan. He’s infringed a duty of care constituent, both in terms of not reporting a subordinate’s medical condition and supporting said subordinate in continuing to practice medicine without declaring this.”

“And you’re currently categorizing someone’s gender as a ‘medical condition’, are you?”

SuperTed is shaking his head sharply at Kelso, who glances at him for a moment and then back at Nickelback.

“No, just that was the easiest way of phrasing it. Any omega staff member should declare their status so that… so that measures can be taken. To keep them safe.”

Kelso doesn’t sound convinced. Love Battery lifts an eyebrow.

“’To keep them safe’?”

“Yes.” He sounds even less convinced now.

“So… Doctor Cox is being suspended for not keeping a subordinate safe?”

“… Sort of.”

“Despite the fact he quite clearly _was_ keeping his subordinate safe by helping him control his… his rather unpleasant medical condition?”

She's staring pointedly at Bob, the glowing green eyes looking unnervingly catlike for a moment.

“There are policies here, Miss FitzAlan. Omegas are to follow those.”

“Are they written in the contract?”

“No, but… well, it’s clear that this should be accurate and reflective of the staff member’s status, even the medical IDs show alpha-beta-omega status. Ted, help me out here.”

“It’s an inferred contractual clause.”

“Yes, exactly. It’s _that_.”

“Right… And do alphas need to declare that they’re alphas? And betas that they’re betas?”

“No, but they don’t need specific workplace arrangements-“

“What _specifically_ do you do to accommodate omega staff members?”

“Miss FitzAlan, this is circular. These are the rules and-“

“It is _not_ circular, Doctor Kelso and you clearly have no legal footing. Omegas have to declare themselves, but betas and alphas don’t? You claim it’s for their own welfare and safety, yet there’s no specific arrangements for omegas here, no heat rooms, no readily available pharma products, although ironically you give out alpha rut inhibitors like candy. It looks to me like you have to alter the workplace for alphas, betas put up with it and omegas are expected to work at a disadvantage. There’s absolutely no legal requirement for an omega to volunteer status information _when it would actively put them at a professional disadvantage_ and it’s clearly discriminatory practice.”

“Miss FitzAlan, you cannot-“

“What you are trying very hard not to say is that there’s a prevalent belief that omegas are not capable of being medical professionals, that they can’t cope with it. And, presumably, an assumption that betas and alphas _can_.”

Kelso’s staring at Blind Melon, a tic in his cheek. I’m already well aware that he doesn’t actually believe half of what he’s saying, he thinks most alphas are controlled by their pheromones. He’s representing the Board’s views, not his. As a result, he seems lost for words.

“Well, obviously,” Brenner snaps, apparently having gotten over seeing a dominant omega in the flesh and whatever horrendous physical reaction that likely produced in him. “If omegas could be good medical professionals then you’d see them around.”

“Like Doctor Dorian?” Blood Circus asks, her eyebrows raised.

“He was clearly an aberration…” Brenner mutters. “I’m not convinced he even was omega, he was too tall.”

Queens of the Stone Age turns back to Kelso. “Should I take your silence for approval of Doctor… Whoever’s statement?”

“I don’t make the policies, I just enforce them.” Kelso sounds oddly unhappy about this, despite how much I know he enjoys enforcing policies.

“So, the view of Sacred Heart’s Executive Board is that alphas are more capable of responding to medical emergencies than omegas?”

“Yes, Miss FitzAlan,” Kelso says heavily. “That’s certainly one way of phrasing it.”

“And you are still planning on suspending Doctor Cox?”

“Yes. And Dorian, assuming he ever reappears.”

Creed stares at Kelso for a moment. “I really didn’t want to have to do this.”

“Do what?”

“You’ve left me no choice, you see. I don’t want this. My client doesn’t want this.”

“Want _what_ , Miss FitzAlan?”

She lifts a hand and taps the Bluetooth headset in her ear twice.

“Marco? Bring in Saboteur please.”

The second enormous bodyguard, also wearing some weird mask hiding most of his face walks through the double doors. And next to him… next to him…

Oh thank Christ. I feel my shoulders slump in relief and know I release a shit load of pheromones and I really don’t give a rat’s ass.

JD’s standing next to him, looking nervous, exhausted and pale, his left hand heavily bandaged, a thick leather collar wrapped around his neck and his eyes glowing. He’s clearly trying not to look at any of his colleagues and wants to be pretty much anywhere other than here right now, I can already smell how frightened he is. Behind him is another alpha, judging by the height and reddish hair he's another FitzAlan.

He’s alive. Oh my God, he’s alive and he’s safe and…

I groan and collapse onto my knees, the stress of the whole situation finally, horribly hitting me. And his gaze snaps across to me and an odd stricken expression runs across his face for a moment, before he apparently gives up any fight, bounds across the room and throws himself at me, wrapping his arms around my neck, pulling me fiercely to his chest as I crush him against me.

“You idiot,” he hisses into my ear. “You fucking idiot, why the hell did you _do_ that?”

“I missed you too, sweetheart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JD's aliiiiiiiiive.
> 
> I considered not including what happened after Doctor Cox's rant until the next chapter - or indeed, having a cliffhanger of the doors being kicked open - but thought that'd be way too cruel. 
> 
> I'm not sure if I'm a bit twisted, but Doctor Cox's internal rant about "why are you missing, Newbie?" really got to me as it basically sums up what I view real love as - hugely inconvenient, often painful, not usually asked for but so precious and meaningful that you'd do anything to keep it. It feels raw and - to me - true.
> 
> Next chapter you get to find out what JD's been up to and why he (unintentionally) tortured poor Doctor Cox with his lack of contact in this one. Also, there's hints scattered all throughout this fic that Iolite has some connection to law (including one I was a bit worried about being picked up on that's mentioned before Cox meets her where there's a comment that the FitzAlans are getting legal advice from someone in the family). Everyone in this universe has assumed she's a rich kid not doing much, but yeah, she just leaves it and doesn't correct anyone. She even directly points out to JD at one point that he's made some assumptions about her which aren't right, but he's not paying proper attention at the time. 
> 
> Dammit, I'm running out of grunge/punk band names, I wish Doctor Cox would just come up with a static nickname for Iolite. I tried to make him and he couldn't think of anything, which was annoying.


	19. 19. My Thwarted Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early warning; this was originally supposed to be one chapter, but it ended up as two. So we won't catch up with the previous chapter by the end of this one. Sorryyyyy.

**My Unorthodox Treatment**

**by RumCove**

**My Thwarted Rescue**

Disclaimer: Scrubs original characters belong to Bill Lawrence and NBC/ABC/Doozer Productions etc. Basically, not owned by me. I own the original characters in this work.

I’ve been running for about ten minutes to get to Sacred Heart to warn Doctor Cox about the impending Carlageddon before I realize what a terrible plan this is.

For one thing, I’m not a runner. I’m really not, I only really ever run to catch a bus or when someone codes. I’m not a sporty person, never have been. I’m pretty lazy, when it comes down to it. I occasionally go to the gym, but mainly end up sitting on those machines that wobble you to burn off fat. I’m the sort of person who buys new gym-wear and then wonders why I’m not in better shape considering I have all the gear. Pristine in the drawer under my bed.

Also, it’s five miles from the apartment to Sacred Heart. Even if I was a half-decent runner and not already suffering from a stitch and in danger of bringing up the salad I ate earlier, that’d still take a good… what 40 minutes? How long do I seriously envisage Carla and Turk are going to just sit outside the bathroom door trying to get me to come back out? Carla’s on a damn rampage and – let’s face it – I didn’t do a great job in arresting that. I did try, but I was panicking and I’m pretty sure she wasn’t actually listening to my protestations. Not that they made much sense.

I cringe slightly at the ‘I had a bad feeling’ explanation. I should have just said I was psychic, that would probably have been more believable.

So… this was possibly an utterly terrible idea. Unless I somehow manage to teleport myself or be the first rather out of shape omega to break a land-speed record on foot, Carla and Turk will get to Sacred Heart before me. I should have stayed at the apartment to try and keep them there, or run past them both and grabbed my cell and called him up. But I'd have had to push past them and... and if they'd tried to stop me I'm so freaked out currently I wouldn't trust myself not to react badly. I _hate_ violence. Part of me wanted to bite Turk when he hugged me when I was otherwise chill. If I bit him when I was scared I could actually kill my best friend, I'm pretty sure he's not a dominant enough alpha to withstand that.

I pant, my breath hot and burning at the back of my throat. I stagger, catching a wall for a moment and then pause, dragging air back into my lungs. My left hand is throbbing, every step I take resulting in turgid pain lancing through it. God, this isn’t fair. I feel dizzy, likely a combination of the shock, the pain in my hand and attempting to run when I’m pretty sure the last exercise I did was… well, was sex.

Also, I just _lay_ there earlier, I didn’t even do anything. Not even sex today.

Stop thinking about that, you’ll be an even worse runner with an erection.

The other reason this is a terrible plan, of course, is that I’m now full on omega. Technically there’s no reason why unbonded dominant omegas _can’t_ wander around at night in dark alleys. Same as there’s no reason why you shouldn’t wear a load of raw beef and then jump around in bear country. Both of them have a pretty high risk factor. Arguably the beefsuit thing would be deserved though.

I glance around nervously and start walking, flinching at how wobbly my legs feel. I’d started at a full sprint, which had devolved into a canter pretty quickly and then into an awkward trot. I get myself back up to a fast walk.

On the plus side, of course, I’ve discovered I have incredibly potent venom, so I guess that if someone does try anything I can bite them. If I can get over my massively pacifist streak, of course.

I thought the back alleys would be a good idea, less people. However, also bad because, you know, less people. I think I’ve got the pheromones under control, but I’ll no doubt be occasionally smelling worried. Worried omegas are absolute catnip for alphas as well and-

“Hello there.”

Shit. Shit shit.

“I’m not feline weed,” I spit out at whoever’s just spoken, some guy smoking a cigarette against a wall. I inhale briefly and make a face, both at the stink of the smoke and his recessive alpha scent.

“I’m not feeling weed either…”

Oh, yeah, he totally is. Likely smoking it too. I glare at him and stalk past.

“C’mon, pretty, give me a smile.”

I ignore him. I forgot about this. I haven’t been outside off inhibitors since I was 17. I forgot about all the inappropriate comments, the constant hyper-awareness, the vulnerable sensation that clings onto you, making you look everywhere for danger and carefully monitor your own appearance for any show of encouragement or overly forceful detraction. To balance the line of not ‘asking for it’ and not being a ‘stuck up omega bitch’.

I’ve apparently fallen off the line anyway, as he’s started to follow me and snarls out: “God, you should loosen up. Want a hand with that?”

Oh, fuck this. I whine slightly and then sprint off hard, immediately kicking into the omega defensive run we can do, sharp zigzagging corners. We run like prey; alphas are usually bigger and faster, so all we really have is dexterity to keep us safe. I hear him start to run behind me and purposefully corner sharply just before a large dumpster, hearing him skid into it behind me.

Him possibly being incapacitated doesn’t exactly ease my mind and so I keep sprinting away until I get to the main road, where I pause and gulp down air before collapsing onto my knees, shaking.

Fuck. This whole exercise is completely pointless. I’m not going to get to him, not going to be able to warn him in time. I push my hair back from my face, fighting back tears. And then what? I know Carla won’t intentionally wreck everything for me, but… oh, I saw her face. She’s so furious, she’s going to go after him. Unless she does so privately – and she’ll know he’s on shift right now – then the chances are that it’ll happen in public. And I’ll be fucked. I’ll be _royally_ fucked.

I won’t have a job any more. No friends. No life. An empty mess with no real meaning. I’ll have to go back to Ohio, live in Mom’s attic with Dan until he eventually sells me. Actually, no, because Dan would never do that. I’d end up selling myself, desperate to do _something_ helpful. Then what? Some rich bastard alpha who’d bite me and then… ugh, what? Keep me locked up somewhere, touch me, have… have efficient German sex with me?

I’m already growling at the thought. The idea of _anyone else_ touching me is making me feel nauseated. No lingering touches, gentle caresses, slightly crazy blue eyes watching me, mesmerized as he teases me into orgasming? No curling up against his shoulder, smelling the scent of fresh pine like I’m walking through a dark forest in winter, practically able to hear the snow crunching under my feet. No being called Newbie any more? No… no _him_?

I whine sharply and stagger back to my feet. I _have_ to warn him. I’m more than halfway, maybe Carla and Turk are still yelling at me through the bathroom door right now.

There’s a quiet possibility nudging at me, which I don’t want to look at. What about _him_? Why not… why not have him as the rich bastard alpha who bites me and then locks me up and touches me and has efficient German sex with me?

I start trudging determinedly towards the hospital. Well, lots of reasons against that. A major one being that, yeah, he’s got money, but he’s not rich, not like the sorts of people who’d buy me would be if I sold myself. It would be selfish. Dan and Mom wouldn’t profit from it and technically they could have done this at any point in my life and money’s definitely been hard and they’ve struggled through. It feels almost like a betrayal to just… bond with whoever I want to and not consider them at all.

_It’s your happiness, you moron. How much you get for it’s irrelevant._

The internal voice arguing with me sounds unnervingly like him. Yeah… but… but I’ve never wanted to do it before. The idea of bonding for me has _always_ been to be sold, not to choose someone, not to genuinely want to be bitten and partnered with someone. Trying to change that mindset’s a bit… difficult.

Also, would he want to? I mean, really? Yes, he seems to enjoy the sex and there’s… something there. He’s pretty much already admitted that, but just because he may want something more than sex and he even suggested being open about the two of us, it’s a big leap from that to 'hey, that was a great third date, let’s get married', which is essentially what this would be. Oh, and also 'I can’t bring in any money, I’m useless at keeping a house, I’ll eat all your food and basically all I’m good for is sex. Oh, and I smell nice'. Like potpourri and a prostitute rolled into one. Potpouristitute.

Would he actually _want_ that? Would he just agree to it out of guilt or pity and secretly resent me? Or, knowing him, very openly resent me? I mean, he’s already told me how much he hates his biology controlling him and my omegan biology affecting him. Surely this would be the absolute definition of that?

And I’d be miserable. I know I would. Yes, sure, I’d be miserable if I sold myself, but I’d know I’d have helped my family out. If I was with him it would be a different kind of miserable. If I dropped all of this, forgetting about it and moving on, even if what I was moving on to would be something horrible, then I would, of course, be incredibly unhappy. But I could probably bear it. The thought of being in the same environment, parts of my old life still struggling on, seeing my old friends sometimes, but it not being the same, it being horribly, irrevocably changed – I’m not sure I could bear that. The idea of it makes me feel a strange combination of pain and shame. Wouldn’t it to be better to remember this as something wonderful? Even if it was only for a few weeks? To cling onto that happiness, to hold it to my heart, to have it like a life preserver when I’m inevitably in a sea of bleak, numbing despair for the rest of my life?

To think about it while some stranger bites me, mounts me? To remember his smile and his kisses and… and everything to keep me going? To have a brief happy memory to treasure when everything else goes dark and painful?

I stagger to a stop and blink away tears. Oh God. Oh God.

I don’t know what’s worse. Part of me just wishes I’d never met him, that this had never created such a painful, sweet mess of possibilities. What’s better, to never know this or to know this and then lose it? Possibly because you end up choosing to because… because you’re too much of a coward or too proud or too… too stubborn? I’ve been so determined to not be controlled by my urges that I’ve ignored them to the extent that the idea of succumbing to them, even if I _want_ to, is difficult. It’s almost easier to make myself be miserable about it, do something I don’t want, give myself no choice, make myself a martyr and tell myself that I didn’t choose it and so can’t be blamed.

God, stop this. I can see the lights of Sacred Heart now and pick up my pace, jogging slowly towards it. I’ve no idea what the time is, my cell’s at the apartment. Please please please let me have beaten them, please please please let me be in time. Let Iolite or Elliot be around for me to grab and send the message in to him.

As I get closer I feel my stomach drop. Half of what I’ve been fervently praying for has come true. Iolite is standing by her bench, staring over at the reception of Sacred Heart. Carla and Turk’s car is parked or possibly slightly crashed right up against the railings by reception. I see her twitch and then wheel around towards me, apparently smelling me. Her eyes widen at the sight of me.

“Shit,” she breathes, then walks over and wraps her arms around me. I freeze.

“What?”

“You smell so sad.”

I’m not surprised. I briefly drop my head down to her and nuzzle her hair as she releases soothing pheromones at me.

It’s an oddly natural greeting and I realize with a shock that this is the first time I’ve ever actually been around another dominant omega not on inhibitors. Just an automatic response to one another. Oddly tactile and intimate, but not in a sexual way, rather like I remember Greg being with me during my heat. A bone-deep desire to comfort and help and connect.

There’s a sudden scream from inside the hospital and I jump. Iolite turns, one of her arms still wrapped around my waist, an oddly protective stance.

“What’s going on?”

“They know,” I tell her bleakly. “I was trying to get here in time to… to warn him.”

My voice wobbles and I feel another rush of despair. I’m too late. I’m too late, I’m too late, I failed him, he’ll not understand, he’ll think I abandoned him. I slide down onto the bench and stare at what was – until very recently – both my workplace and my home.

Iolite crouches down in front of me. “He’ll be able to handle himself.” There’s another scream from inside and I twitch.

“Can you check he’s okay? Please, Iolite, I can’t…”

She nods briskly and then waves at someone behind me. “Hey, Adam? Can you take JD to the van please? Marco can come with me.”

One of the enormous alphas that always seem to hang around Iolite comes and gently takes me by the shoulder and leads me to a black minivan parked in the Sacred Heart car lot. I’m tempted to crack some joke about hospital parking fees, but just feel too miserable. I slump onto the seat on my side and notice Adam glance at me before he hunts around in the back of the van and then very carefully puts a blanket over me.

“Thank you,” I mutter.

He watches me for a moment. “You’re in pain.”

I nod and lift my hand out from under the blanket. It’s already looking swollen. I flinch and drop it back under the blanket, but lever myself back upright.

“Are… are you a bodyguard?”

“In a manner of speaking. My partner and I have been employed by the FitzAlans for several years. We used to live on the premises and accompany Amber, Iolite and Marcie to events. After… what happened, it’s now our role to be with Iolite at all times.”

I blink. “But… no offense, but aren’t alphas a slightly odd choice for bodyguards for omegas? You’d be affected by Iolite, right? If she went into heat suddenly like Amber did?”

He grins. “We’re… maybe slightly different to standard alphas.”

I snort. “Yeah, I’ve _that_ heard before.”

“Well, like I said, my _partner_ and I work together to protect her.”

“Oh. _Oh_. You don’t mean just… work partner, right?”

“No.”

“You… you don’t like omegas?”

He shrugs. “They have some effect on me. But no, not enough to trigger a response.”

“Oh. That’s kind of unusual, I guess?”

He shrugs. “You can’t help who you love.”

I frown. I wish I could be that straight-forward about the whole thing. I try to imagine it, just saying “I want to be with him and so I will” without neurotically considering all of the things that could go wrong and why it’s a terrible idea. I sigh. It’s just not me.

“There’s some movement out there,” Adam updates. I scrabble forwards, looking out. Iolite’s heading back towards the van, Adam’s partner (Marco?) in lockstep with her. Marco slides the door to the van open and Iolite scrambles in before he slams it shut and gets into the passenger seat next to Adam.

“What’s going on?”

Iolite shakes her head. “There was a fight. I didn’t see the beginning of it or what caused it, but some bald guy was attacking your alpha.”

Oh shit. “Was he chocolate colored?”

Iolite gives me a horrified glance and I shake my head. “Look, it’s not racist, he likes me calling him chocolate bear.”

“Does he actually?” Iolite looks skeptical. “Um… yeah, if you want to phrase it that way. I think he took your guy by surprise, but Doctor Angry-Curly seemed to win out eventually. He looked okay, I don’t think he was injured. Your friend flattened a desk with him though. Then they all got taken away by the surprisingly forward-leaning old man.”

“Kelso,” I note, dully.

“Yeah, him.”

“I’m fucked.”

“Um. Yeah. Sorry. Looks that way.”

“Well… thanks for checking for me.”

I stand up, reaching out for the door handle to the van. Iolite shoves her foot out in another ridiculous wedge heel, blocking my exit with her leg. “Where are you going?”

“Out there.”

“To do what? I’m assuming you know your inhibitors have completely gone to shit?”

“Yeah.”

“So… what? You can’t go _in_ there, not like this.”

“I need to tell him to deny knowing anything. Or just go in and deny any help.”

“What if they don’t believe you? What if one of them attacks you? No. No way. I’m not letting you. You didn’t see it in there, there’s pheromones all over the place, who knows how they'll react? What if some asshole in there decides you’re feral and reports you?”

“I need to _help him_.”

“Then fine, we’ll help him. But that’s a dumb way of helping him.”

I blink. The van’s gloomy and dark, Iolite’s eyes and pale heart-shaped face illuminated by a single shaft of smoky light. Her similarity to Amber is suddenly striking and somehow ethereal, like the dead omega’s ghost is trying to repay me for saving her. Which is ridiculous, since I couldn’t even manage that.

“We?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought you… didn’t like alphas?”

“I don’t dislike alphas. I just dislike how some of them treat us. And he’s your alpha, I’m doing it for you, not him.”

“What can you do?”

She narrows her eyes. “Probably more than you realize.”

“Look, that’s very kind, but…. But I need to talk to him. I need to explain.”

“So message him.”

I roll my eyes. “If I could message him then I’d have warned him. My cell’s in my apartment.”

“So… we can go there. Just give Marco the address.”

“My keys are in the apartment too.”

“Oh.”

“I can… I can wait by his Porsche. He’ll come back there, with all this going on he’ll know I will have tried to warn him, he might even come check there before his shift ends.”

“Io, look at his hand,” Adam interjects. I suddenly hate Adam, the tattle tale.

“Jesus, what the hell happened?”

“Um. An accident.” _My best friend slammed a door on my hand because he thought I was attacking his pregnant omega_.

“Fuck. We need to get that treated.”

“No, look, he can, he can treat it.”

“Right, and how long will it take for you to get to him? Hours?”

Iolite ignores my sputtered response of “Porsche” and “doctor” and calls someone on her cell. “Hey, Alex? Can you call the doc? Get him to come to Kingfisher, we’ll be there in about 30. Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine, it’s a friend. No, I have _not_ been picking up strays again. Yes. Yes, fine, you can. It’s not a fucking zoo, Alex, stop being so weird.” She hangs up.

“Look, it’s very kind of you but-“

“Oh, shut up, JD. You’re running around in the middle of the night stinking of despair and pain, you’re unbonded, your inhibitors have failed, you’ve not got a cellphone or keys or presumably any money else you’d have gotten a taxi here to warn your precious Doctor Ragealot. There’s an entire building full of what I think we can assume are your _former_ coworkers all riled up. It’s a recipe for disaster, I’m not letting you go out there. I've... I've already had one person I care for get murdered in that sort of situation. I’m not letting that happen to you. Marco, drive.”

“Sure. Adam’s got scotch if he needs it for the shock.”

“Adam, give some to JD.”

The van sways as Marco turns on the ignition and starts to drive.

“I hate scotch. Anyway, seriously Iolite, I _need_ to speak to him.”

“And you will, but right now you can’t, he’s with Doctor Progressive. And he’ll be able to cope for a bit, he’s a dominant alpha, he doesn’t need you looking out for him.”

“Yes he does,” I mutter, stubbornly. “He can’t sleep without me.”

Iolite frowns. “What?”

“Nothing, I was being stupid. You’re right, he doesn’t need me looking out for him.”

“He can’t _sleep_ without you?”

I shrug. “Apparently not. I have to keep giving him my shirts if I can’t stay the night.”

“Uh. You realize that’s a bond thing, right? It’s not… you don’t just get that from sex.”

“That’s not happened to you before?”

“No, but I've not exactly had many committed relationships, I usually run away after sex. Hang on…”

She’s shuffled closer to me and then presses her nose against my scent gland. I "eep" at her and she ignores me. After a minute or so she pulls back and gives me an odd look.

“You don’t smell bonded.”

“I’m not.”

“But you don’t smell unbonded either.”

“Oh, shit.” I think about what Gillespie told me and give her a brief summary.

“So… you’re sort of… half-bonded? That’s weird. How’d be manage to fuck you, I’d have thought the urge to bond would have been too difficult to deal with?”

“Because he has some self-control.”

“There’s self-control and then there’s just being a total masochist. Okay, so… that’s odd.” She seems to be thinking about something for a while. “We might be able to use that.”

“How? How can we use that?”

“Certain… legal technicalities. If you’re half-bonded and they go after him there’s a couple things we could try. Also brings some difficulties though.”

“What difficulties?”

Iolite tips her head slightly awkwardly. “Well… he may be less able to cope on his own than I thought. And you, actually. Bonded couples suffer apart, I’ve no idea what part-bonded couples do.”

“Insomnia, terrible sleep, anxiety and inhibitor rejection?”

She smiles humorlessly. “Sounds about right.”

“Oh, fuck it.”

“Yep.”

\- - - - -

Despite the constant throbbing pain in my hand and the nausea-inducing worry about what’s happening at Sacred Heart and what’s happening with Doctor Cox, what he’s thinking, whether he’s tried to find me… despite all that, I can feel myself starting to slump against the window, exhaustion stealing over me. I keep dropping off and twitching awake, a spasm of nerves and fear each time, the closest I can describe it is when you think you’ve left the stove on or something, a sudden stab of panic. A jerk of horror, eyes slamming open before I tiredly slump back down again. I see Iolite watching me thoughtfully in the gloom of the van. She reaches across and takes my uninjured hand and softly strokes her thumb across the fine bones of it, releasing comforting pheromones. I grunt slightly and roll my head to look over at her.

“Is this what it’s like to be around other omegas?”

She blinks, confused. I can kind of understand that confusion, I’m possibly not expressing myself well.

“What do you mean?”

“Well... y'know, that I've not really interacted with any much. I think this is actually the first time I've ever been with a dominant omega when I'm not on inhibitors.”

"Yeah, right. I guess... yes, this is what it's like. If someone's upset then we usually just automatically try to comfort them. I figure it's because we're in such a shit position, kind of like meerkats all looking for hawks. It's pretty natural for us to try to help one another."

“Oh.” Presumably this is one reason Carla got so upset and so focused on not ‘looking after me’ and ‘allowing’ an alpha to ‘take advantage of me’. She thought she’d failed me, which had made no sense to me. If she’s more used to omegas banding together then I guess that kinda makes sense.

“Stop thinking about him all the time. You not being around omegas much probably explains how… weird you are.”

I frown. “I’m not weird.”

I’m feeling drowsy, her pheromones are working.

“You are a bit, sorry. And if _I_ think you’re weird then you really are.”

I slump against her shoulder, closing my eyes. “How’m I weird?”

“It’s sort of strange talking to you as an omega, you’re so straight-laced when I’ve been with you before and now everything you’re thinking is basically being shouted out.”

“N’s’not.”

“Yes, it is. You’re in pain, you’re frightened, you’re worried and you’re thinking about Doctor Assbutt a _huge_ amount.”

I grunt. She tightens her grip on me and seems to consider what she's just said.

“You’re like an omega but not in some ways.”

“S’ry.”

“Don’t be. It’s actually pretty nice. Not the pheromones, they’re getting a bit annoying now. You stink of pomegranates all the time, it's really strong.”

“St’pid rosebush…”

\- - - - -

“Hey, JD, wake up.”

I grunt against her shoulder.

“Wow, you really didn’t go to a finishing school. C’mon, we’re here and I need you to get up otherwise I’ll have to ask Marco to carry you. Then you’ll probably bite him, you animal.”

I force my eyes open. “Where?”

“We’re at my place.”

The door to the minivan opens and Iolite tries to pull me to my feet. I stagger and she nearly falls over.

“How are you so big?”

“That’s what all the ladies say,” I mutter. I try to force myself upright, but my head spins and I sit down again heavily. “I don’t feel great.”

Iolite grabs my uninjured hand again and I try not fall on her. Once I stagger out into the cool night air I glance around. “Are we in a field?”

“A vineyard. This is my family’s estate. Like, quite literally, an estate. This is one of the… well, it was a holiday property my parents rented out. It’s mine now.”

I stumble and she staggers next to me, freezing and leaning her weight backwards to try to stop us from both pitching over. I hear someone hurrying over and she snaps her head up.

“Alex, no, stop it-“

“Io, why are you trying to drag some… what, beta stray around? You stupid tiny idiot.”

“He’s not-“

I growl. “This place stinks.”

“No, that’s Alex. Alex, _back off_.”

I collapse onto my knees. Shit.

“Hey, stray, come on.”

My nose is full of some weird, woody rich earthy smell which I had initially assumed was the vineyard, but is apparently whoever Alex is, judging my someone roughly grabbing my shoulders and waist, starting to haul me over to the little cabin I can see set next to a pond amidst the sea of moonlit vines. My head spins again and I’m briefly worried I might throw up. I risk a sideways glance at Alex and stagger again.

Alex, it turns out, is a relatively short, stocky guy around my age with close cropped reddish wavy hair, tan skin and green eyes. Judging by the smell of him he’s a dominant alpha, although – I notice with a smug twinge – I’m definitely taller than him.

“Jesus, Io, stop producing so many fucking pheromones.”

I see her appear next to him on the other side from where he's holding on to me, looking a strange combination of annoyed and amused. “Not me, knucklehead. Look at who you’re manhandling.”

“What?”

He frowns at her and then glances over at me staggering along next to him. His eyes widen when he sees me in the light from the cabin we’re approaching. “Well… Jesusfuckchrist, Io, where did you find one of these?”

“How blasphemous,” she says drily. “I think he’d prefer not to be spoken about like that. Y’know, Jesus and the omega you’re mauling around currently.”

“Alright, alright,” he mutters. “Sorry, mauled omega. What’s your name?”

Unfortunately my head spins so violently at this point that my legs totally go out from under me completely and I collapse against him.

“Shit,” I say to myself, quietly.

“What a beautiful name. I’m Alex.”

\- - - - -

Once Alex has deposited me on a couch I close my eyes, trying to ignore how dizzy I’m feeling.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“I’m not sure. He’s hurt and probably in shock. He’s… had quite a stressful evening.”

I snort, not opening my eyes. “That's putting it mildly.”

“When did the doc say he’d be here?”

“He’s coming. He did his usual complaint that he doesn’t do house-calls at 0100.”

“He does house-calls whenever he’s summoned. Like a medical genie. He gets paid enough. God, stop staring at him Alex, you creep.”

I open my eyes in time to catch Alex staring at me with a slightly awed expression.

“JD, this is Alexandrite, my brother. My parents didn’t just punish me with a terrible name. They punished me with him… and gave him an equally terrible name. Don’t mind him, he’s harmless.”

“How can you have been punished with me, I was born before you?”

“You manage it somehow, big bro. Stop being annoying, I need to do research…”

Iolite’s flicked open a laptop and is typing, frowning slightly at the screen. Alex looks over her shoulder. “Why are you searching medical malpractice clauses? Doc’s not that late. And I thought you were on a break from school for personal reasons.”

“This is personal. JD’s a doctor. His bastard employers found out today that he’s an omega, I’m doing worst case scenario research.”

I lever myself up into a sitting position, flinching as my brain feels like it’s in a crashing elevator. “To be fair, they… might not quite know just yet. They’d have to do some research.”

“They didn’t notice? With him looking like _that_?”

“His inhibitors crashed, you moron. You’re the one who thought he was a beta a second ago.”

“It was dark. And he’s massive.”

I really do wish people would stop that, it’s making me incredibly self-conscious. Iolite shrugs.

“For all we know, that might be common with dominant male omegas, there’s not really enough of them to assume anything. It would kinda make sense, actually, I did some research on it before, apparently they’re a bit more like dominant male alphas in some of their characteristics.”

“Ooh, what do they do?”

“I’m right here and can hear you talking about me,” I point out, possibly uselessly. “Also, how’d you find anything? When we looked all we ever found was porn.”

I used ‘we’. I’m not sure if that gives me a little pleased kick or if it makes me feel lonely.

Iolite gives me an oddly sad smile, apparently picking up on how I just phrased that. “I found stuff because I can afford it. I tasked a researcher.”

I frown. “When?”

“After I met you. I was curious.”

“That’s not creepy. At all.”

“Hah!” Alex beams at me. “Thank you! You should hear what she calls me and then she pulls shit like that.”

“Creepy is clearly a family trait,” Iolite mutters, still looking at some website.

“So, you’re a doctor?”

I nod and then regret it, head spinning crazily.

“He tried to save Amber,” Iolite adds.

“Oh. Well… thanks for trying, man. Although I hear that… wouldn’t have done anything.”

Alex has a strangely puppyish quality to him, an almost innocence that seems completely at odds with him being a dominant alpha (and now I'm feeling slightly less like I'm going to collapse or puke I can register that actually, he is _very_ dominant, I think he's at roughly the same level as Perry). There’s a knock at the door and he bounds to his feet to answer it. Iolite watches him go and then grins at me.

“He’s... he's a nice guy. Incredibly annoying and almost nauseatingly cheerful sometimes, but he's... sweet. I think his protective drive got sort of overdeveloped and so he always wants to be with omegas, but not for any bad reason. He will stare at you, just a warning. He was always closer to me and Amber growing up and he just sort of likes being around omegas. He won’t do anything, don’t worry.”

“’m not worried…”

She looks cheerful. “Nah, you aren’t, are you? You probably should be, he’s clearly got a crush on you.”

I give her a horrified look and she smirks. “You shouldn’t have called me a creep, it was bound to make him fall hard. Ah. Hi Doc.”

An annoyed-looking beta has stalked into the room with swept back black hair, tall, probably in his mid-forties and wearing a suit. What the hell kind of doctor wears a suit?

“Io, couldn’t this have waited?”

“No,” she says simply and points at me. “His hand’s hurt. And he keeps falling over.”

Makes me sound drunk.

“And what ridiculous name do you want me to put on the treatment record?”

“Have I had Jasper yet?”

“… no, I don’t think so.”

“Great, he’s Jasper then.”

I frown. What? The doctor, who apparently has no particular urge to introduce himself, gently takes my hand and looks at it critically.

“What happened?”

“… Got slammed in a door…”

Iolite hisses softly to herself. The doctor glances back at her. “I need to X ray this, you realize?”

“So book him in tomorrow morning. Well, this morning.”

“Can you move your fingers?”

“No.”

He frowns at me. “Can you _try_?”

I lift an eyebrow. “I tried earlier. I’m pretty sure it’s a stable fracture of the proximal phalanx. Just… y’know, all of them, apart from my thumb.”

“I’m not going to ask for background on that diagnosis.” He carefully examines my hand and I eventually do try to move my fingers for him, yelping at the attempt. He sighs.

“I’d concur. I’ll immobilize them and give you some morphine and anti-inflammatories. Io, if I give you a prescription can you get it for him and not take it yourself?”

“Always possible,” Iolite mutters, still staring at her laptop.

“Fantastic.” ‘Doc’ deadpans. It reminds me suddenly of Doctor Cox and I sit miserably as he carefully bandages my hand into immobility and then passes me the tablets, which I swallow dutifully. He then checks my eyes, pulse and blood pressure before frowning at Iolite.

“He’s stressed. Badly so. Which would explain the collapsing.”

“Did you check his scent gland?”

I make a noise of protest. I don’t even particularly like Doctor Cox doing that massage thing, let alone a complete stranger.

“It’s alright, he’s an omega specialist,” Iolite tells me. “You’ve been getting shitty second-hand diagnoses on it, you may as well ask him when he’s here and awake at 0200.”

I give him a miserable look and he watches me calmly, waiting for my permission. The morphine’s starting to hit, making his brown eyes and graying temples remind me of a slightly sarcastic badger.

“’kay,” I mutter

His massage technique is completely different to Elliot’s. He simply firmly presses on a point on my neck and my head abruptly rolls back and I let out such a violent purr it nearly sounds like a snarl. It’s like a Vulcan nerve pinch or something. He then circles his thumb repeatedly over the scent gland as I rumble alarmingly, my eyelids starting to flicker.

It’s weird, a sort of equally pleasurable and mortifying experience.

“Alex, get that cushion out of your lap. On second thoughts, keep it there.”

“Shut up, Io.”

He stops exerting pressure on my neck and I roll my head away, letting out a long, growling purr.

“He’s… pre-bond? I’ve not seen it before, but that’s pretty clear.”

I twist my neck and look at him blankly. “What does that actually mean?”

“That you’ve identified your compatible partner. It’s rare, partially because most alphas and omegas don’t drop their guard enough to properly get to know the other gender, but it can happen.”

“And… what happens if I ignore it?”

He shrugs. “Physically, not all that much.”

I frown. “But… but my system’s been going haywire.”

“It’s more of a… cognitive issue. You’re under a huge amount of stress because of it, which means your body thinks you’re under attack. This won’t diminish until bonding. And the same for the alpha you’ve identified, this is a mutual situation. It’s entirely stress-based, but it has a significant effect on pheromones and the scent gland, which can _then_ have a physical effect.”

“Oh,” I can’t think of much else to respond to that with. “Shit.”

My eyes hurt and feel dry and tired, I can feel them tearing up slightly every time I blink. Everything hurts. I rub at my eyes with the back of my hand and then flinch at the pain from my fingers. A bout of vertigo hits me and I grunt to myself. Stupid morphine.

“He should get some sleep.”

“No shit, Sherlock…” I mutter, eyes fluttering closed. I then yelp sharply as I’m gathered up and open my eyes to see Alex has picked me up bodily. I growl at him and 'Doc' apparently feels the need to warn him:

“I wouldn’t recommend that, Alex. He’s not likely to react well to other alphas in this state.”

This feels wrong and I don’t like it, but the morphine’s clouding through my system. My growl’s cut off as my head drops back against his shoulder, quietly petering out at the back of my throat.

 _I don’t like this, I don’t know where I am, you don’t smell right, you’re not right, who are you? Who are you and where am I and where is_ he _, where is he, why isn’t he here?_

I’m gently put onto something soft and fluffy. A bed? I twist and scent at the material, whining quietly when I can’t smell him there. Tears start to roll down my face, horrible, useless tears at feeling so vulnerable and lost and without him. I snuffle into the material, whining louder and feeling the howl start to choke it’s way up through my throat.

“Shh, it’s fine, shhh, it’s just the drugs, JD.”

There are arms around me and they’re all wrong, too small, too soft, too… too _gentle_. He couldn’t be this gentle if he tried. I squirm, annoyed, and am hit with a sudden wave of comforting pheromones, a lulling, gentling, warm wash telling me that everything’s fine and to rest. I growl very quietly in response and then feel my body answer, releasing my own pheromones back at her, essentially drugging myself.

“Good boy,” she says to me softly, pulling my head under her chin, pressing my nose against her throat and continuing to release soothing pheromones.

It’s so like something he’d say, but so wrong, so different, that I start to sob exhaustedly against her. She stokes my hair gently and whispers that it’ll be alright, it’s fine, I’ll see him soon, not to worry, just to sleep, just sleep, I’ll feel better when I’ve slept and Alex, get out of here you idiot.

Just before I give in and collapse into blessed darkness I’m overwhelmed by the smell of a rose garden on a summer’s day. My head slumps down against her and then there’s nothing.

\- - - - -

I have weird, horrible disjointed dreams. Carla, tears dripping down her face screaming at me about why I didn’t tell them so they could protect something, but not being able to figure out who or what needed protection and rather dumbly just asking "huh?" in response as she stinks of guilt and fear. Turk attacking me, which horribly morphs into Perry attacking me at one point, furious, eyes crazy as he accuses me of abandoning him and then slamming a door onto my hand. Elliot, dead eyed and lost, asking why I dragged her into this and why I lied to her and used her. The Janitor, that expression from before when he found my inhibitors, flatly telling me I disgust him as he steps threateningly towards me, about to do something unspeakable and not face any consequences because I was 'asking for it'. Kelso, eyes narrowed in dislike standing in front of me; "you’re irresponsible and you misrepresented yourself, Mr Dorian. Get out of my hospital before I call in the registration companies and report you as feral".

And a repeated, constant litany throughout all of the over-bright, saturated, loud scenes that are spiraling through my head; _you failed, you didn’t get to him in time, you didn’t warn him and then you ran out on him and left him to face the music all on his own_. That he doesn’t even know whether you’re alive or dead right now.

_That’s cruel. It’s goddamn cruel, Newbie, you little bastard._

I gasp and jerk awake, feeling Iolite press my face back against her neck, releasing pheromones to try to calm me back down. I force my eyelids open and twist; there’s a weird, sickly bluish glow of light in the room.

“Whazzat?”

“Just my laptop, go back to sleep.”

She’s still holding my face to her throat, using the other hand to apparently continue scrolling whatever she’s currently reading. I look up at her and blink tiredly.

“What’s the time?”

“0400.”

“Why’re you still awake?”

She shrugs. “Researching. Also, you seem to start waking up when I stop this.”

The pheromones are already fugging my mind. “Stop druggin’ me.”

“No.”

“I need to let him know…”

She sighs and pulls back. I drag some cool, clean air into my lungs. The pheromones aren’t unpleasant at all, but they make the air feel and taste weirdly hot and close. Also sticky somehow, like binging on something sweet and the way it makes your mouth go all tangy and strange.

“You need to let him know what?”

“That I’m not dead…”

She frowns. “He won’t think you’re dead.”

“He won’t know what to think! I’ve just vanished! I… I’m supposed to go to him tonight, I want to go to him…”

“Look, you going to him isn’t going to help this situation.”

“I _need_ him.”

“I know you do. But I’m not saying never to, just lie low for the time being. God knows what’s happening at that hospital right now. I’ll get something on it tomorrow.”

“I need to see him. I want to see him tonight, I _told_ him I’d come to him tonight.”

She sighs. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Today. Later, okay?”

She’s trying to pull my face back to her neck and I growl at her. She frowns at me in response. “What?”

“I need to talk to him.”

“Well, you don’t have your cell and I’m assuming you don’t know his number by rote?” I shake my head. “Do you have his email address?”

“No…”

“His Facebook profile?”

“No, I don’t think he has one. I don't have one either...”

“Wikr? Insta? Tik-tok? Skype?”

“I don’t think he has any of those.”

“How does he _live_? Also, he really is old, why are you with him?”

I glare at her. “He’s just not that bothered by social media, alright? And I'm not, I can't have Facebook in case anyone I went to high school with manages to see my profile and decides to comment to ask why I'm looking like a beta in all my photos.”

“Does he watch my vlog?”

I frown. “I dunno. He’s looked at it over my shoulder a couple times.”

“He can use Google, right?”

“Of course he can use Google. He’s not a troglodyte.”

“Could have fooled me,” Iolite mutters. “Look, why don’t I put something onto my vlog about how a friend of mine is fine and his friends are worried about him and shouldn’t be. Or something like that.”

“Or I could just write a comment on it.” I wriggle around to her laptop and try to reach for it.

“I’ll type it for you.”

“No,” I respond stubbornly. She sighs and loads the website and opens a comment box for me. She then sighs again theatrically as I painstakingly type out and then submit:

SASHA IS OK. SASHA TRIED REALLY HARD TO GET TO YOU BUT COULD NOT IN TIME. SASHA IS SO SO SO SORRY THAT YOU ARE ALONE. SASHA WILL SEE YOU SOON.

“Why the hell are you calling yourself that?”

“It doesn’t matter, he’ll get it.”

She frowns. “Why do you sound foreign and shouty?”

I grunt and close my eyes. “Because I’m liquored up on morphine and pheromones? Like I said, he’ll get it.”

“Fine, look, I’ve approved it, your weird insane comment is on my website.”

“Shut up and leave me alone.”

“What a thing to say to someone who’s slept with you.”

“That’s what everyone who I’ve slept with says to me…”

“Alright, virgin.”

\- - - - -

When I wake up again, bright sunlight is filtering through the window. In my sleep I’ve rolled with my right arm up above my head, my face pressed against the inner skin of my bicep (as much as I can call it a bicep after seeing Doctor Cox’s up close), my injured hand snug against my chest. I try to move my right hand and groan at the pins and needles that immobilize me.

I force myself to sit upright, flinching at the tingling in my right hand and the sharp ache in my left. Iolite’s gone somewhere. I presume she slept at some point last night, although wouldn’t be hugely surprised if she didn’t actually function like a normal human being.

I yawn, my jaw aching as I do so. Ugh. There’s a hesitant knock at the door and I glance over, uselessly jerking my tingly floppy right arm around to try to get some feeling into it. Oh. Presumably that’s what woke me earlier.

“Yeah?” I ask hoarsely. The door opens slightly and Alex’s voice floats through.

“Are you decent?”

“Not according to most people I’ve met, no.”

There’s a pause where he clearly isn’t sure if I’ve made a joke and is presumably standing outside awkwardly. “I’m not naked, if that’s what you mean.”

Alex’s head appears around the door, closely followed by his body. “Um, sorry to wake you. Just you’re got that X ray booked and it’ll take around 40 minutes to get there and if I don’t take you Io will kill me.”

“Oh? Is it booked this early?” I stand up and stretch, feeling bone-tired and exhausted.

“Early? Um. It’s… it’s 2.”

“What?!” I yelp, staring at him in horror.

“Uh. Yeah. Io’s been researching since 9 and reckoned that you would wake up soon after she left. When you didn’t we figured you just needed the rest.”

“Shit.”

Alex shuffles over and passes me some pills, a bottle of water and a toothbrush, one of those freebies in a plastic pouch that you get from hotels and airlines with a tiny toothpaste included. “Um, here. You can shower when we get back.”

I growl and hurry into the bathroom, quickly brushing my teeth and then splashing cold water onto my face to try to wake up. Shit. This isn’t good, I need to get back to Sacred Heart, not hide out here in this vineyard whilst Doctor Cox takes all the flack. And likely combusts in rage from all this shit.

He would be pissed if I didn’t get my hand checked though, so I guess getting this X ray makes sense to reduce the likely fury-fallout from all of this.

\- - - - -

Alex is extremely quiet throughout the drive. I’d like to think that’s because he’s focusing on driving, rather than the palpable level of awkwardness I can feel emanating from him and his occasional glances at me, which I have the uncomfortable feeling are more akin to the awe-struck gazes he kept throwing at me last night. I stare out of the window at the acres of vines and feel pissed off that I’m getting stared at like some fascinating exhibit and also that apparently none of these vines have been made into wine. I could really do with a drink right now.

Okay, that’s not like me. I'm spending too much time with Doctor Cox. Speaking of which, I’m going to channel him, since Alex would clearly be terrified by him and he _has_ to stop looking at me like that.

“Say, Melissa, I’m _nahwt_ a zoo animal, I know I’m probably the most gosh-darn adorable boy you’ve ever seen, but stop that.”

Oh my God, it worked, he’s twitched his gaze immediately to the road, looking shame-faced, his ears red.

“Sorry.”

I immediately feel like an asshole and force the weird Perry-possession into submission.

“It’s alright. It’s just…”

“No, I really am sorry. I don’t get to meet many omegas and… er, well, I guess I just like being around you guys. Io’s right, I’m kind of a creep.”

“We aren’t all the same, you know,” I point out tiredly. “I’m definitely not a normal omega. And you aren’t a creep. I’ve met creeps.” I think about The Todd, although he’s mainly harmless. Then I think about Brenner and, damn, _he’s_ a creep. “You aren’t one.”

“I just always found omegas kind of… I don’t know, majestic.” I snort and he gives me an odd look. “What?”

“Majestic’s what you call a dragon.” Or a unicorn. God, I wish I was like a unicorn. “It’s… fantastical. I’d have thought with omega sisters you’d know that was all bullshit, we’re just the same as everyone else. Just with unfortunate biology.”

“Is that really how you see it?”

“Um. Yeah?” I frown.

“I guess I always found omegas very kind. My sisters and my Mom… my brother Mica isn’t, uh, he isn’t very nice.”

It’s an oddly childish way of putting it and I look over at him, an odd stab of protectiveness running through me, the way I’d feel if a kid was hesitantly telling me in a quiet voice that his Daddy sometimes hit him. “No?”

“No,” he tells me firmly. “No, he’s not. Io teases me a lot, but she doesn't mean anything bad by it, she teases everyone. She... she doesn't quite understand things sometimes, she's weirdly naive for someone so clever. Amber was the other way around, not as smart but she really understood how everything worked. She looked out for me. I really _really_ miss Amber.”

He smells so sorrowful for a moment that I can’t breathe. I crack the window slightly and he flinches. “Sorry.”

“S’alright. Anyway, it just sounds like you’ve known nice people who just happen to be omegas. I’m not… I’m not all sweet and kind. We’re not all like that.”

“But Io said you were a doctor.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, that means you’re kind, right? You want to help people? And… you seem pretty sweet. Very sad, but… nice.”

“I’m _not_ nice. Or sweet. Or sad.”

“No?”

“No… no, I’m… I’m a playa, alright?”

He sniggers and I glare at him. “I _am_.”

“Sure.”

“I’m not some… some sweet little omega, alright?”

“Sure. You’re not little.”

I growl at him and he laughs. “Even that’s cute.”

“Shut up.”

I glare at the road for a while. “How long is this gonna take?”

“Another 20 minutes to the doc. This estate is huge. I manage it.” He sounds proud at that. I glance at him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I run the estate. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do, although you’d think it was something shameful the way my brother talks about it. Mica didn’t want to, he does some… corporate cut-throat business bullshit. I like growing things. Io’s training to be a lawyer and-“

“She is?”

He looks back at me, confused. “Yeah? I thought that’s how you knew her, didn’t you come to her for help?”

“Um. No. Do people do that?”

“Omegas do, yeah. Betas sometimes. She advertises in the omega shelters and counsellors and things. I thought you were one of those.”

“No, I met her at the hospital.”

“Oh, yeah, that’d make more sense. She usually picks up people who need help, tries to give them legal advice, gets them treatment, money…”

I blink at him and he grins. “See what I mean when I say she doesn’t mean anything when she teases people? She’s exactly the stereotype she pretends not to be. She’s an enormous bleeding heart, just she acts like she isn't. If left to her own devices she'd just go and round up all of the omegas and try and put them on the vineyard to keep them all safe or something. But after what happened with Amber she sort of broke.”

“Oh. She wasn’t always crazy?”

“She’s always been crazy. Just not _that_ crazy.” Alex frowns. "In a way, it's the wrong way around that Amber died and Io's left. Io relied on Amber so much and was so attached to her. Obviously Amber loved Io right back, but she wasn't so tied to her, didn't _need_ her in the same way." He blinks. "Not that I wish it the other way around or anything, although I sometimes think Io does."

I’m backtracking to what I overheard last night, not properly listening to him as I sort through my confused thoughts. “Oh, is that why I’m Jasper?”

Alex grins. “Yeah, she’s running out of precious stone names to claim they’re part of our family with the Doc now.”

“But he obviously knows-“

“Oh, yeah, totally. But he agrees with what she does. Sometimes tries not to bill, not that she lets him. Just he’s not technically allowed to treat anyone outside the family, he has special dispensation from our Dad to directly treat family omegas. So she just claims they’re part of the family and he pretends to believe her.”

“I don’t want to be Jasper FitzAlan.”

“Tough shit, you’re Jasper FitzAlan and I’m your alpha, for the sake of the scan.”

I glare at him. He shrugs at me. “What?”

“You _aren’t_ my alpha.”

He rolls his eyes. “I know, geez.”

“I’m not calling myself JF. That sounds shit.”

“JFA?”

“That sounds too much like JFK. Careful of that grassy knoll.”

“Um, just as a warning, I’ve done this with Io’s strays before. I’m… er, I’m gonna be pretty alpha in there. I have to be, for the sake of anyone who might see us.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Oh, really? That fact I’m taller than you is-“

“Is completely irrelevant,” he tells me cheerfully. “You’re clearly an omega and the best way to keep you safe is to ensure any other alphas think you’re under my thumb.”

“You’re going to enjoy this, aren’t you?”

“Probably.”

“Stop flirting with me.”

“I will if you will.”

I flush and then stare furiously out the window. _Bastard_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FitzAlans all over the place.
> 
> Introducing the final OC; Alex, who has been waiting very patiently in the wings. Oh my God, a nice alpha OC. Technically Marco and Adam are nice alphas too (ahhhh, gay alpha pairing), although they don't actually say all that much. Alex was very nearly originally called Jasper, but then I decided to reserve that for JD when he's in hiding.
> 
> In the early drafts I wrote of this story Iolite was quite different - she was much more serious and sensible, whilst Amber was written as the "sillier" one. When I was developing it I switched some of their characteristics around, since I felt like it sort of made Amber a stereotype and I didn't want that. So Amber became the sensible, caring, thoughtful one (albeit with no desire to try to change the status quo) and Iolite became a bit more ridiculous and impractical, but extremely smart and dedicated to try to cause change - which I think works better for her, although I think makes her less likable as a character when she's initially introduced, particularly since she's also utterly devastated when we first meet her and so acts even more oddly and immaturely. But anyway, it was weird to edit this chapter and come across the "old" version of Iolite in it and update her.


	20. 20. My Time Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, we do catch up by the end of this chapter. Promise.

**My Unorthodox Treatment**

**by RumCove**

**My Time Out**

Disclaimer: Scrubs original characters belong to Bill Lawrence and NBC/ABC/Doozer Productions etc. Basically, not owned by me. I own the original characters in this work.

Alex parks the truck and shakes his head at me when I reach for the door. “Leave it, wait for me to do it.”

“Seriously?” I hiss at him. “I’m not some pathetic little-“

He ignores me and gets out of the driver side, vaulting energetically out and slamming the door loudly. Stupid tan bastard with his stupid biceps and his stupid outdoorsy smell from being in the vines all day. I have no idea where the vine smell stops and his pheromones start.

He opens the passenger door and offers his hand. I have a brief, weird image of Doctor Cox saying 'milady' whilst doing a similar action and frown, ignoring his proffered hand and attempt to emulate his spring out of the van, nearly face-planting when I discover how high the suspension is. He catches me and sighs.

“Just _pretend_ to be normal, alright?”

Ah, excellent, he gets me. I nod.

“C’mon.” He takes my uninjured hand and I follow him, glaring daggers at him.

“Can’t you just play along?” He sighs. “Didn’t you ever need to get medical in the past with a responsible alpha?”

“My brother never felt the need to hold my hand. He generally tried to flush my head down the toilet.”

“Oh, your brother’s an alpha?”

“Yeah, recessive. My parents are betas. Uh. Were betas. Well, my Dad was a beta.”

Alex blinks, clearly unsure whether my father is dead or has somehow changed secondary gender. I lift my eyebrows. “He died last year.”

“Oh. Sorry to hear that.”

I trail along behind him, trying to ignore how annoyingly cool and reassuring his grasp is. Apparently having ignored any sort of biological urges for the last 10+ years my body’s going slightly crazy now.

_Shut up_ I point out to my omega. _You’ve already made a fool of yourself over Doctor Cox, stop lusting after randoms_.

My omega – which I visualize as looking like me, but wearing an enormous ΩΩ medallion and an open shirt like a 70s porn star – shrugs at me.

_God, what a dick._

I… I don’t know if I’m thinking about my omega or Alex or-

Fortunately this thought is interrupted by Alex dragging me through the reception doors, announcing “Alex FitzAlan and omega” rather haughtily to the receptionist and then sitting down, pulling me unceremoniously down onto the chair next to him and then proceeding to completely ignore me and flick through a magazine he takes from the coffee table.

I stare at him for a moment and then look at the magazine selection. Fitness or beauty. Great. Neither are exactly my forte and so I slump onto the chair and fold my arms, glancing around the waiting room. Everyone is very well dressed and clearly wealthy. Most seem to be recessive omega-dominant alpha pairings, all elegantly appareled and all apparently staring at me. I glance down at my clothes – a pair of jeans and a T shirt I changed into last night after my shift that I had wriggled back into after I’d not even cleaned myself off properly after that _amazing_ sex-but-not-really-sex with Doctor Cox. God, was that only last night?

Anyway, I’m suddenly horribly aware that I’m dressed in my very best Primarni, didn’t even shower off from the… mixed residue from the last time I had sex and then promptly got horribly stressed out, went for a run that my completely unfit body wasn’t up for, got even more stressed out in a van and finally slept in my clothing before coming here. I blink at everyone looking at me, wondering whether the allure of dominant omega is enough to mask the fact I must look and smell like a homeless person right now.

I glance sideways at Alex. Even he’s looking 'farmer chic' in a check shirt and low-slung jeans which likely cost more than my entire goddamn shitty wardrobe at home. I stiffen and sit more rigidly and stare at my feet. I notice Alex’s glance flick over to me and he murmurs softy:

“What’s up? I’m being the stereotypical alpha dick, you don’t need to-“

I shake my head abruptly. What can I even say? It’s such a dumb thing to suddenly be worried about. What, that these rich assholes will think I’m poor? Well, yeah, I am. Fuck you all. At least I haven’t sold myself, although people like this would probably view that as stubbornness rather than any form of integrity or pride. Misplaced pride more like.

God, I _hate_ this. Fuck you. Fuck you all. I don’t want to impress any of you chinless wonders, fuck right off. I know what goes on at the country clubs, Elliot told me. Fuck off and bend over for Fernando the pool boy. Although that may, admittedly, only be Elliot’s Mom who does that.

“You’re smelling anxious,” Alex mutters to me.

“Sorry.”

I make an effort to stop it.

“You smell like pomegranates, you know that right?”

“Yeah.” And spunk, I definitely must smell of that too. Carla even basically said she could smell that on me. _Oh God._

“Stop whatever the hell it is you’re worrying about.”

“Sorry.”

“What _are_ you worrying about?”

“Um. I need to shower.”

“Seriously? _That’s_ what’s bothering you?”

“You don’t know what I was up to last night.”

“You smell fine.”

He stares at me for a moment and I look back helplessly, tempted to blurt out ‘I came all over myself last night and so did another guy’, but biting my tongue. Also, ew. I mean, _ew_. It’s weird, with Perry it’s fine, it’s not gross or demeaning or anything. But looking at it unemotionally… well, ew.

_Hi, my name’s JD (although I’m apparently going by JFA right now), last night my boss came all over me at the same time I had possibly the most intense orgasm of my life. Then my best friend’s wife had a screaming fit at me after finding out I’d been hiding that I was an omega, my best friend slammed my hand in a door, I ran five miles to try to warn aforesaid boss that he was about to get destroyed by my best friend’s wife, failed magnificently to warn him, slept with (in a non-sexual way) a female dominant omega who I think keeps staring at my tush and now I’m in a doctor’s surgery with her brother who I think has a crush on me and have suddenly realized that I have no fashion sense and probably smell like a hobo rent boy._

That’s… that’s totally normal.

I am actually pretty surprised that Carla’s main issue was… was that she hadn’t ‘looked after me’, if I’m honest. When I’d occasionally had a rather horrific image of what it would be like if everyone at Sacred Heart knew what I was, I’d always imagined Carla as furious at me. She always made such a big deal about being an omega and proudly representing that omegas could be strong, independent, capable individuals. Finding out that I was an omega and _not_ promoting it, _not_ highlighting what an omega could do – I’d always though that it would make her furious. That I wasn’t ‘representing’ when I really should have been, particularly as a doctor.

I’d never imagined her to be _guilty_. I’d never imagined it would have upset her matriarchal sensibilities the way it had. She’d felt like she hadn’t protected the one person who was actually the most vulnerable in the hospital. In a way, I hate that. I hate that, even knowing me, she automatically viewed me as so vulnerable and likely to be hurt.

In a way, it had been such a relief. The idea of her resenting me, of her hating me for not being brave enough to be open… That idea had been something that had haunted me nearly since the day I’d met her. She’s always been so fearless and proud. I’d always thought that if she found out about me she’d be scornful at how cowardly and weak I was.

But surely she’d known that Doctor Cox wouldn’t take advantage of me, right? Right?

God, he was so… he didn’t take advantage of me. Oh God, I miss him.

“Alex FitzAlan?”

Alex stands up, throwing the magazine carelessly to the coffee table and dragging me up by the shoulder with the same casual indifference and strolling through to the examination room. The doctor from last night is sat at a desk and dismisses the nurse before Alex abruptly slumps in the chair and grins at him.

“Hey again, Doc.”

“Alex. Jasper.”

“Doctor…?” I respond. He grins at me tiredly.

“Doctor Reyner. I’ve got your X ray booked in, Doctor…”

I suspect he thinks I won’t reply, so pointedly do: “Doctor Dorian”.

Alex twitches and glances at me. Reyner gives me what I think is a genuine smile. “A pleasure, Doctor Dorian. I’m extremely glad to meet someone like you in your position. Apart from your broken hand, of course.”

I smile back exhaustedly. Reyner frowns. “Are you still not feeling well?”

“Not really.”

“He’s slept for around 12 hours, Doc.” Alex notes, worried. Reyner shrugs.

“He’s stressed. He likely needed it and he was on morphine, it does… somewhat exacerbate the situation. I assume you took the tablets?”

“Yeah, Iolite didn’t steal them. I had terrible dreams.”

“Rather standard, I’m afraid. Follow me and we’ll get that hand properly looked at.”

\- - - - -

After an X ray that confirms the rather sad state of my hand, Reyner carefully splints my fingers into place and re-bandages my hand.

“It’s not too bad,” he reassures me. “It’ll heal quickly with no lasting damage. Just… just don’t try anything too difficult with any medical procedures for the next few weeks.”

I sigh slightly. “If I still thought I had a job to worry about that would give me some comfort. Thanks Doctor Reyner.”

He mutters something to Alex just before we depart and I frown at him for a while in the truck until he eventually sighs and looks at me. “What?”

“What did Reyner say?”

Alex shrugs. “Doc didn’t say much, he doesn’t usually.”

I continue to stare at him until he buckles. “ _Fine_. Fine, alright? Stop staring at me.”

“What did he say?”

“That he wouldn’t be adverse to… to a partner in his practice, alright? If stuff doesn’t work out for you.”

I look at him blankly. “Really?”

“Yeah. Really.”

I make a choked noise in response and Alex glances at me.

“What’s up?”

“Just… just that’s very kind.”

I don’t want to admit it, to say that I honestly don’t think I remember when anyone was last that kind to me for no real reason. Particularly a stranger. That it’s so… that it’s so unusual and so out of the ordinary that it’s thrown me nearly to tears. Reyner has nothing to gain from this and he’s only met me twice, why would he even think me worth that? Particularly since he knows I'm an omega, if he thought I was beta I'd find it slightly less overwhelming. That a complete stranger who _isn't_ an omega could apparently see any sort of non-sexual value in me when I'm not hiding is... is...

“You’d have to pretend to be a FitzAlan though, you realize?”

Alex seems to have picked up that I'm overwhelmed and tried to lighten the mood. 

“Oh. Not worth it then.”

Alex grins.

\- - - - -

_You could stay here_.

I ignore the treacherous thought.

_You could stay here. Work with Reyner, either not having to take the inhibitors or taking them and having an expert able to help if they start to break down again. Live on this vineyard. Maybe… maybe even…_

My eyes stray to Alex, sat relaxed in the truck, one arm slung over the open car window, the other on the steering wheel. The sun’s making his tan skin look even darker, his eyes looking almost shockingly green in comparison and the reddish wavy hair highlighted with blond strands. He’s nearly my complete opposite, short, stocky, tan, light haired, confident, relaxed, rich, privileged, alpha. The hair and tan skin make him look reddish-golden all over. Apparently picking up on my gaze, he glances sideways at me and I look away quickly.

_What the hell is wrong with me?_

Shit. If this had happened even a few months ago… before all this stuff with Doctor Cox, if the inhibitors had started to fail and he’d not been around or… or…

My rambling thoughts are shying away from the nervous question I can feel at the back on my mind. If I’d met Alex – or someone like Alex – before all this, would I have had these weird little stabs of… something for him?

_Probably. But you’d probably not have let yourself feel it_.

I sigh. Because no matter what I can feel right now, that weirdly the smell of him isn’t filling me with rage and distress and that likely means something, that I do keep glancing at him like he’s somehow irresistible, that despite the weird feeling in my stomach… that I can still feel the dull ache of missing Doctor Cox. Of missing _my alpha_. That the idea of that is stupid beyond belief and I know it. It’s like being desperately thirsty and seeing a tiny dribble of water, something that might help briefly but in the long term I’d still die of thirst without what I really need.

If it had happened before then… then maybe. But not now. Which is a shame in a way, because he’s… decent. Nice. Kind. Charitable. Affectionate. All the things that _he’s_ not.

Or pretends he’s not.

And I also know that even the most mind-blowing sex with Alex would probably not even match up to Doctor Cox kissing me, let alone anything else. Or the sense of contentment I get around him.

I stare out at the vines.

“So you look after all of this?”

“Yep.”

“That’s a lot of vines.”

“Well, I have staff as well. I’m not out there single-handed, shirtless with a scythe all day or anything.”

Oh God. My mouth just went dry as I tried not to visualize that and failed.

“Are… are scythes needed to cut vines?” I squeak. I see Alex smirk and glare furiously back out of the window.

\- - - - -

When we pull up this time I don’t let Alex open the door, using my good hand to pull it open and hop out.

“What’s the time?” I ask Alex.

“Nearly 5.”

“Shit,” I mutter. I was supposed to get to Doctor Cox’s apartment for 6. I could ask him to take me there now, although I’ve got the distinct feeling he won’t do anything unless Iolite agrees with it. She did say we’d talk about it today, although I got the distinct feeling she was saying that to blow me off.

“Where’s Iolite?”

“She’ll be in Kingfisher, probably.” He points at the cabin. I hurry inside, hearing him trail along behind me.

“Iolite?” I call out.

“Hey sleeping beauty. How’s the hand?”

She’s sat in a Japanese-style robe at the table, scribbling notes in a large A4 book. She’s not wearing any make up and her hair’s not styled, hanging in a wavy bob around her face. She glances up at me and I’m struck by how much she looks like Amber did without all of the accoutrements she normally adds.

“It’s fine. Well, no, it’s not, it’s fucked. But I told you I had… I _have_ an appointment tonight, right? At 6? Back in the city?”

She frowns. “Yes, I know. But I’m working on this right now and-“

“Well, Alex could take me, right?”

“Listen, JD, something’s happening at your hospital.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s some sort of investigation, presumably into you. I really think you should lie low. If they think that your alpha was helping you out and you show up at his place… well, that doesn’t look great. And I think that they’re going to call all the staff in soon.”

“So it makes even more sense for me to go now, surely? Before he gets called in.”

He won’t care that I likely reek and look like shit. I need to see him, I _need_ him. I shuffle on my feet.

“Look, JD, I’ve come up with something. I want to talk to you about it. I think… well, I think that I might be able to keep you employed. And him employed. But if you run off now I don’t know if it’ll still work, y’know?”

I gawp at her. “How?”

She tells me, laying out her legal and then rather illegal strategies over around 20 minutes of slightly unhinged rambling and gesticulating. When she finishes I stare at her blankly.

“That’s insane.”

“But I think it’ll work.”

“But it’s insane. And dangerous.” I look beseechingly at Alex. “You can’t let that happen.”

He shrugs. “I’m not the boss of her. It’s… risky, but not if Marco and Adam are there.”

“After what happened to Amber-“

Iolite cuts me off sharply. “Only it's _not_ Amber. That won’t happen. And it’s a worst-case scenario. It’s if they ignore all the legal arguments.”

“It’s _blackmail_.”

“It’s not. It’s showing them for what they really are and exposing them. And it’s only doing that if they give us reason to.”

I stare at her. She frowns back at me. “I get it if you don’t want to do your side of it. I wouldn’t. But if that’s the case then just say it, don’t worry about the rest. I don’t.”

“No… no, that’s not it.”

“And even if it does go… go to that, then even then we won’t actually be blackmailing them. Not unless they still try and go after you and him. Then it’ll be used.”

“But…”

“And hopefully it wouldn’t even get to that. If they’re sensible they’ll take the out I give them.”

“And if they don’t? If I have to ruin the reputation of a hospital that’s given me a job, that’s trained me, they’re my _friends_ -“

“They aren’t your friends,” Iolite suddenly snaps. "You didn't tell me it was an _omega_ that went and outed you. I mean, what the hell, why aren't you furious? That it was that nosy, controlling one who kept bothering me when I was trying to process what had happened to Amber? That an _omega_ \- of all people - could put you in that situation? She'll know how dangerous that is, what she's done. I wouldn't expect that from a damn omega, that's _inexcusable_ from another omega, she's an utter, complete bit-"

"Stop it! Carla was upset, alright? She wasn't thinking, she didn't mean to do it! She was... she was just trying to protect me."

Iolite snorts. "Like we need to be protected by recessive omegas. And that beta doctor, the one in charge, he’s _leading_ the investigation into you. If he was an alpha then I’d maybe understand his attitude, but betas suffer as well as omegas under how the system works. He should be _defending_ you, but that bastard’s leaving no stone uncovered. He’s done state checks and found nothing and if he wanted to he could have shut it down there, but he’s doing nation-wide checks now.”

“How do you _know_ all of this?”

Iolite pauses in her rant and then grins. “I have a mole.”

“A mole?”

“Yeah, you know, like… not the rodent variety.”

“Moles are insectivores, not rodents.”

We both turn to stare at Alex, who shrugs. “What? Don’t use incorrect terminology in front of a horticulturist.”

Iolite stares at him for a moment longer, an exasperated expression on her face, her furious tirade apparently completely derailed now. “Right. Thanks for that. I’m sure JD’s very impressed with your knowledge of tiny pests.”

I am, actually. I thought they were rodents too.

"You're a tiny pest."

Iolite turns back to me, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, I have someone on the inside.”

“Although I suppose technically I’m a vigneron.”

“Shut _up_.” Iolite snaps.

“Who?” I demand.

“Pretty sure she means me.”

“Shut _up_ , Alex.” I briefly feel bad for that, but dammit, this is wasting time. It's already nearly 6.

“I’m not telling you my sources. Suffice to say, I know what’s happening there. Your alpha vanished last night after you were uncovered or nearly uncovered by your idiot roommates. Half of your co-workers overheard that moronic recessive omega nurse accusing your alpha of taking advantage of you and that you're an omega, although most of them don’t seem to believe it. The assumption is that piece of… that Kelso won’t find anything on you.”

Hang on. A mole? Not… not Mole Butt?

“It’s Elliot, isn’t it?”

Iolite flushes. “Like I said, I’m not telling you my-“

“It’s obviously Elliot, Iolite. You have her number?”

She glares at me. “Fine, yes, it’s her. Yeah, I have her number, she gave it to me.”

I sigh in relief. “Well, that’s great then. We can call Elliot and she can tell Doctor Cox I’m fine. And Turk and Carla.”

Iolite blinks. “What?”

“Well, she knows. She’s the other person in the hospital who’s been helping me out, I told you that two people knew, right? She’s the other one.”

“Oh. That definitely makes it easier.” Iolite frowns at her cell. “She didn’t say anything about knowing about you. She was claiming she thought it was all lies.”

“Well, obviously, she was sworn to secrecy.” Not like I actually expected her to keep to that. I really do need to stop underestimating Elliot.

Iolite turns her cell onto speakerphone and then calls Elliot. It rings a couple times then Elliot picks up.

“’Lo Io.”

“Hey Elliot. How’re you doing?”

“I can’t really talk, Io, I’m-“

“Go outside or something. We need to talk to you.”

I hear Elliot mutter "frick" under her breath and then the sound of a swing door, shuffling, a cheerful "hey Janitor" "hey beautiful" "awww" (what??) and then another swing door.

“Hey. Look, I can’t talk for long, I’m supposed to be at rounds in five minutes, assuming they happen with everything going on.”

“I’ve got a friend here that wants to talk to you.”

Iolite glances at me. I try and think of something to say. “Uh. Hey Mole Butt.”

The cell nearly explodes, Elliot’s so high pitched in response. “Oh _mi_ GodJDIvebeensoworriedwhereareyouhowareyouwhatsgoingonohmigoshImsorelievedtohearyou-“

All three of us are wincing. “Alright, Elliot, I’m sorry. I just found out that you were talking to Iolite. My cell’s still at the apartment, I don’t know anyone’s number.”’

“How are you with her?”

“I ran into her just as the whole drama was unfolding in reception. I… I’d tried to get there before Turk and Carla.”

“ _God_ , JD,” I hear her blow her bangs out of her face. “It’s crazy here. I was so worried about you. I heard that you’d climbed out of a window and ran off, I was terrified you’d been attacked or something.”

“Sorry,” I say, uselessly.

“You realize what Carla _said_ , right? And Kelso’s started out of state checks, JD, he’s bound to find the Ohio register soon enough.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know what happened in Kelso’s office, Doctor Cox just walked out and didn’t come back.”

I blink. “Is he okay?”

“I dunno, JD. I don’t care much either.”

I frown. “What?”

Elliot’s voice is stubborn. “He just did what he always does, didn’t stick up for you or anything. Just walked out. And I’m _so pissed_ with Carla and Turk right now. What were they thinking? And you were hurt, how the hell were you hurt?”

“I’m fine-“

“His hand’s broken. Slammed in a door.” Iolite says. I glare at her.

“It was an accident, Elliot.” I say hurriedly. “And Carla’s pregnant, it’s screws with hormones and messed with Turk’s as well, they didn’t mean anything by it.”

There’s an ominous silence from Elliot, which I know means she’s glowering at the ground and likely ignoring everything I’m saying.

“Elliot, can you do me a favor please?”

“Sure.”

“Can you tell Doctor Cox I’m okay?”

There’s a pause. “No.”

“What?” I yelp. “You just said-“

“I’m not telling him, JD. I’m not completely convinced he _didn’t_ take advantage of you, if I’m honest. And he didn’t stand up for you or defend you or anything, just walked out because he’s a self-obsessed bastard. He doesn’t deserve the peace of mind to know that right now. If I hear him protect you or show in any way that he’s _not_ a completely selfish bastard then yeah, I’ll tell him.”

Iolite’s staring at the cell in shock, apparently not expecting this either. She glances at me and then shrugs.

“Um. Okay. I… I’d really appreciate it if you did tell him, Elliot.”

“No, JD. Don’t ask me to enable this.”

“Well, could you tell Carla and Turk please? They must be out of their minds with-“

“ _No_ , JD. Were you not listening? They just blew your cover completely. I’m _so_ pissed with them, they deserve to think they caused the worst.”

“No they _don’t_ , Elliot, and Carla’s pregnant, she shouldn’t be worrying-“

“Oh, boo-frickin’-hoo, JD, she’s only a tiny bit pregnant, it’ll have no impact.”

“Elliot-“

“No, JD, I’m not doing it. I’m so glad you’re safe. You should stay where you are for a bit, forget all of this, alright? Let me know where you are, I’ll come visit.”

“ _Elliot!_ ”

“Elliot, I’m trying to make a legal case for JD to keep his job,” Iolite says. “It’d probably go better if those three idiots weren’t all ridiculously emotional. Although I think you have a point about his stupid roommates, he doesn't agree.”

Elliot snorts. “Turk and Carla and always ridiculously emotional. And Cox is still an emotionless bastard.”

I flinch. I know he just doesn’t show his feelings, he hates that, he does… I do mean something to him. I know that, even if there’s a niggle of doubt in the back of my head that’s whispering to me that he just got sick of all this drama and walked out, didn’t bother defending or protecting me…

To my surprise, I feel a hand intertwine with my uninjured one and look over to see Alex holding it gently, before he softly leans over and murmurs “she’s wrong, he absolutely loves you, he’d be an idiot not to”. I stare at him for a moment.

“He is kind of an idiot.”

Alex smiles. “Not that much of one.”

“Who’s that?” Elliot pipes up.

“My brother,” Iolite snaps. “Elliot, are you seriously refusing to tell them? That’s… that’s cruel, Elliot. At least tell the angry alpha, he doesn't deserve that.”

There’s a pause. “Fiiiine, I’ll tell them,” Elliot finally huffs. “But when they come on shift. I’m not calling them, they don’t deserve that.”

“Thank you,” I breathe.

“Keep me updated with what’s going on please, Elliot.”

“Sure, will do Io. I have to go to rounds now. JD, I’m so glad you’re safe. See you soon.”

She hangs up.

“At least she agreed to tell them. Eventually,” Iolite notes. I nod. She looks at me critically for a moment. “You look terrible.”

“Thanks.”

“You smell terrible too.” I see Alex flinch slightly at that; clearly he’d been lying earlier. “I put some clothes out in the en suite, go shower. Get Alex to wrap your hand in plastic film or whatever you need to do to keep it dry.”

“I’ll just keep it out the shower,” I mutter, suddenly feeling every bit as gross as I should and hurrying into the en suite.

\- - - - -

I feel considerably more human after a hot shower. I wrap myself in an enormous towel; this ‘cabin’ is ridiculously plush, like some sort of log ski chalet. The en suite is bigger than my bedroom.

The clothes Iolite has produced (which she’s clearly bought for me somehow) are also ridiculously plush. I stare at them, reading labels and assuming that they’re designer brands. I really don’t know anything about them. But I wriggle into it all, having difficulty with the buttons with one hand but eventually managing it. I stare at myself critically in the mirror. Iolite’s right, I look like shit. Something about my eyes look dead and exhausted, even though they’re glowing which should make that impossible.

I look good in the clothes though. I mean, I sort of look like a vampire, deadish and fashionable. Doctor Acula strikes again.

There’s a weird black leather strip which I was slightly terrified of when I saw it, thinking it might be a banana hammock or something and Iolite’s playing a joke on me. I come out the en suite, about to ask her, but stop when I hear her on her cell.

“Calm down, Elliot, what’s the matter?”

There’s a pause and then I see Iolite stalk over to the table and start shoving all of her notes and documents into an A4 folder. “Alright, yeah, that’s… sudden.”

“What’s happening?” I ask Iolite. She glances back at me.

“There’s some sort of meeting being called at your hospital.”

“What?”

She holds up a finger, frowning as she listens to her cell.

“Alright, Elliot. How long?” Pause. “Well, I’d rather you see us first and-“ Pause. “Oh, alright. That’s lame though. Fine. Bye.”

“What’s going on?”

She turns to me, a worried expression on her face. “They’ve called an all staff meeting. Probably starting in about a half hour.”

“And?”

“And… it’s literally all staff, they’re calling people in from being off-shift. It has to be some sort of announcement about you.”

Shit. My heart starts to race. “What… what are we going to do?”

Iolite’s already hurrying into her bedroom. “I’m getting ready. We can listen in to whatever he’s found out on the journey there. Then we’ll know how to act from there.”

“How can we listen in?”

She’s left the door half open and has pulled off the robe to reveal she’s naked underneath. I hurriedly turn around to look away as she explains: “I was hoping we’d get more notice and we could bug Elliot and send her in with a wire.”

I frown. “But we don’t have more time.”

“No, we don’t. So she’s going to call me on her cell and leave it somewhere near that Kelso guy when he’s announcing whatever he’s announcing.”

“Is that much worse than a wire?”

“No, it’s about the same audio quality.”

“Then why do you sound pissed?”

“Because it’s not as _cool_.”

\- - - - -

When Iolite reappears I jump slightly at her appearance. She frowns at me. “What? You want me to represent you and him in a band T shirt?”

“Well, no, just you look… different.” She doesn’t really look like her, with minimal make up, sleek hair and the tailored black skirt suit. Even the shoes are sensible.

“That’s sort of the point. You don’t exactly look like you either.”

I glance down at myself. “Oh. We match.”

She grins. “That was the idea. If we do have to bring you out as an ace card then we should at least have an impact.”

I frown at her. “Yeah, you look professional, I just look ill.”

She pulls a face. “Well, I wasn’t expecting you to look quite so… pale and interesting today. Why aren’t you wearing the collar?”

“Oh, is that what it is?”

“Yeah, put it on. Our whole argument is based on making that beta unsure whether you’re bonded or not. If your neck’s on show then that’s going to remove any doubt.”

I retrieve the collar and shove it on. Iolite sighs and then rearranges it into presumably a more appealing position.

“Right, don’t take it off.”

I paw at it. It’s an unpleasant, constricted feeling, not having any physical impact on my ability to breathe, but I already feel like I’m suffocating. “How do you wear these all the time?”

She points at the spindly collar around her own neck. “It’s not as heavy duty - I'm not trying to hide a bite or pretend I'm hiding one - and I’ve gotten used to it.”

“I guess if you’ve worn them all your life…”

“Oh, no, I haven’t. I was put in this when Amber died.”

I glance at her. “You were ‘put in’ it?”

Iolite lifts her eyebrows. “I may be uncommonly lucky in terms of my privileges, but I’m still an omega. I don’t have a bond to a responsible alpha, but my father’s still got accountability for me. He insisted that if I wanted to… ‘continue my activities’ then I had to wear it. And have Marco and Adam around at all times.”

“That seems… harsh.”

She shrugs. “It seems an overreaction, but he’s mourning. Omegas dying can impact alphas horrendously, particularly when they’re close to them. Their protective urge makes them blame themselves. To be honest, I’m surprised he didn’t put me under house arrest.”

“What about the impact on you?”

Iolite shrugs. “C’mon. We need to get in the van. If this all goes downhill we need to move fast.”

Marco and Adam are both wearing some sort of weird masks when they meet us outside the cabin, although Alex isn’t.

“Oh, you’re coming are you?” Iolite asks him. He shrugs.

“I figured that you’d need as much help as you could get.”

“Don’t you need one of those?” I point at Marco and Adam. He shakes his head.

“Doesn’t work like that, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Iolite throws a digital camera to him. “You can keep the record then. Start recording from now, with it being saved into web-based storage, _not_ the hard-drive. Just in case someone takes it off of us and tries to confiscate it or something. You don’t stop until I _tell_ you to, okay? No matter what.”

Alex nods, turning the camera on and training it on us.

“Is it filming?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

I stare at the camera for a moment; this all becoming real.

“I feel like a whistle blower.”

“That’s why you’re called Saboteur.” Iolite points out. “Come on, you were desperate to move earlier, now you’re getting all moralistic and weird.”

I clamber into the van. “I never called myself Saboteur, that was you.”

“You used it when you messaged me, remember?”

I roll my eyes. “Only because I knew you’d realize who it was if I did. I’m not _that_.”

I sit quietly in the van, frowning at Alex training the camera on me. “Stop that.”

I don’t want this. I don’t want to do this, I just want to go back to everything being _normal_. Not all this weird shit and trying to make a point and a stand. I don’t want to make a stand, I just want to be left alone. I don’t want to hurt anyone or cause any problems.

“What’s wrong?” Iolite sighs. “All you’re doing is standing up for yourself. You’re not being malicious or aggressive, you’re just defending yourself. You’ve not done anything wrong.”

I gaze at her balefully. “Not doing anything wrong and doing the right thing aren’t the same.”

She frowns. “I don’t understand.”

“Well, no, you wouldn’t. You’re a lawyer.”

Alex sniggers.

“In training.” Iolite lifts her eyebrows. “And fine, be all angelic. Don’t think about yourself, you odd, selfless weirdo. But what about _him_?”

“What about him?”

“If he’s implicated then is it the wrong thing to protect him?”

“Well, no. Obviously. If it’s going to impact him then I’ll do anything to stop it.”

Iolite gives me a twisted grin. “You’re so weird.”

“Why?”

“It’s just not logical, you don't make sense. But never mind. Do you want to film some interview scenes?”

“Not really. Do you need them?”

“I was thinking that you could explain what had happened and everything leading up to this while we’re on our way.”

I flush. “I don’t really know how to.”

“How’s about this?” Alex asks. “I don’t actually know anything about you. Why don’t I just ask you questions and you answer?”

“Um. Okay.”

“Right, easy one. What’s your name?”

“JD.”

“That’s not a name.”

I blush again. “John Dorian. But everyone calls me JD.” Well, _nearly_ everyone.

“Where do you work?”

“Sacred Heart hospital in California.”

“What do you do there?”

“I’m a doctor. I’m an attending physician in internal medicine there.”

“Where did you study?”

“I did an undergraduate and then a medical degree at UCSF.”

“Where were you before that?”

“Lakeside High School in Ohio.”

“What’s your favorite color?”

I grin, thrown. “Blue.”

“What’s your favorite animal?”

“Can I have a fantasy animal?”

“Sure.”

“A unicorn,” I’m giggling slightly.

“When did you present as a dominant omega?”

Oh. Not giggling any more. “Just before I turned fifteen.”

“When did you go on inhibitors?”

“When I was eighteen, just before I went to college.”

“Did your school know you were omega?”

“I… didn’t declare it. They assumed I was beta.”

“And the same for your medical degree?”

“Yeah.”

“And when you got your job at the hospital?”

“I did an internship and a residency at Sacred Heart before I got into the position I’m in now. And no, I didn’t declare it. There was just an assumption I was beta and I didn’t correct that.”

“What’s your star sign?”

“Aries.”

“How did you meet your best friend?”

“I met him at college, he roomed with me.” I’m grinning at Alex again. I can completely see through this, he’s asking me ‘easy’ questions every so often to keep me relaxed.

“Does anyone at the hospital know you’re a dominant omega?”

“Until very recently, no. After Amber came in for treatment all the pheromones and… and other stuff overwhelmed the inhibitors. I went to hide on the roof to try to see if it would subside and my boss found me up there.”

“He realized what you were?”

“Yeah, he’s a dominant alpha. And the inhibitors had pretty much completely burned out, I was nearly in heat by that point.”

“What did he do?”

“He got me some more inhibitors and then berated me for being an idiot.”

“He didn’t report it?”

I frown at Alex, unsure if I should say this on camera. Iolite glances at me. “We’re kind of going with the truth here for this, don’t protect him. I don’t think there’s any protection left for him anyway.”

“He didn’t report it. He tried to help.”

“How do you mean?”

“He took over my medical treatment, helped me inject the inhibitors. They kept failing though and he booked me into a heat clinic when I asked him to.”

“What’s a heat clinic?”

“Um. A place omegas go to have heats. I hoped it would reset the inhibitors.”

“Is that basically a place you go to have sex? Do they have any job openings?”

“ _No_. I didn’t have sex with anyone there, I just… heated and um. Stuff.” I blush again.

“Would you rather bungee jump, sky dive or go in a shark cage?”

“Er. None of the above?”

“No, you need to choose one.

“Shark cage. Less likely to splatter.”

“What’s your favorite alcoholic drink?”

“Appletini.”

“So after you’d been in the clinic the inhibitors worked again?”

“Um. Yeah. To begin with. But they started to go haywire again. A…” I pause. I don’t care if we’re being honest here, I’m not dragging Elliot into it as well. “A friend of mine knew a professor on omega biology and asked him about it. He… said…”

I trail off, staring at my bandaged left hand.

“What did he say?”

“He said that we were in pre-bond or some shit like that. That because of _circumstances_ around when the inhibitors failed first time and things that we’d sort of… clicked. And that I was rejecting inhibitors because my body wanted to be in a state to bond.”

“You sound annoyed about that.”

I glare at him. “Of course I’m annoyed. How would you feel if you had no choice over who your own biology decided you should be with?”

“Well, I kind of am in that situation.”

“Not to the same degree – this thing is over-riding. I _hate_ the smell of other alphas, I reject inhibitors, I get really… weird if I don’t see him. And this is someone who basically spent most of his time acting like I annoyed him before this all happened.”

“I’m sure you didn’t.”

“He genuinely once described me as the most annoying bastard on the planet.”

“What about you?” Iolite asks quietly. I look over at her.

“What do you mean?”

“You said you were annoyed that you’d bonded-but-not-quite-bonded with someone who acted like you annoyed him.”

“Yeah?”

“How did you feel about him?”

I desperately try to stop all the blood that’s rushing to my face. “That’s not important.”

“Well, it mainly seems you don’t like the situation because of the position it’s put him in, you’ve not said anything about it upsetting you because it’s pushing you towards someone you don’t want to be with. Or do you?”

“I… I…”

“Only once you mentioned this thing I got my researcher to do some research on pre-bonding. It’s rare, but it does happen. And the funny thing about it is that it doesn’t happen randomly, it’s not two peoples’ eyes meeting across a crowded room and _bam_. It apparently only happens when both parties have been emotionally invested _and_ physically attracted to each other for a significant period of time.”

I stare at her. “What?”

“Which would imply that you had the hots for him for a while.”

“Well… I mean, he’s a dominant alpha and yeah, I realized that I had a crush on him but-“

“It also implies that he had the hots for you too.”

I stare at her. She suddenly grins, apparently trying not to laugh. “It _also_ means that you can blame biology, since you still have an omega response to dominant alphas. And it means he _can’t_ blame biology, since you were on inhibitors and he thought you were a beta. Are you getting what I’m saying here, Saboteur?”

What? Really, what? I blink at her.

“But you didn’t bond with him?” Alex asks quietly.

“No… no, we tried… er, something else, to see if that helped.”

“He means he had sex, he’s such a prude.” Iolite informs Alex. I yelp at her. She ignores me and then goes: “oohhh, that pre-bond thing will explain why your first time wasn’t shit.”

“You hadn’t mated before?”

“Oh God, this isn’t relevant. Anyway, it seemed to reset the inhibitors and I tried some new ones which seemed to work and then… then my roommate found my inhibitors. And she confronted me with it and stuff all went a bit… wrong. And then there was an accident and my hand got caught in the door and it meant the inhibitors completely fell apart and my roommates saw me – very briefly – off of them. And then they want to the hospital and screamed at my boss since they thought he’d been taking advantage of me and everyone heard and…and…”

“And now they’re apparently having an all staff meeting that’s about to start.” Iolite’s staring at her cell. “Elliot’s calling in a minute and I’ll put it on speaker. Try not to say anything, it shouldn’t make a difference really, but just in case. Hey, Marco, ETA?”

“Five minutes.”

“Awesome. Alex, record everything on this call, it’s key.”

\- - - - -

Initially there’s just general murmuring and a clattering noise which must be Elliot putting her cell down somewhere near the front. Then there’s clearer voices:

Kelso: Ahem. Now, you may all be wondering what’s going on right now. I’m afraid I have some news that you will find… difficult to believe. However, it is my job to deliver such news and to take the further actions required of me. I take no pleasure in any of this, but as chief of medicine at this hospital, it falls to me to ensure that standards are kept up and unnecessary risks are not taken. I have failed in this in regards to this particular… problem. Lessons will be learned. By all of us.

You may have noticed that John Dorian has not been on shift today, as he was expected to be. The current location of Doctor Dorian is unknown. However, it has been brought to my attention – through certain allegations and then from further investigation – that Doctor Dorian is not a beta, as had been previously believed. He is a dominant omega.

<Louder muttering>

The Todd: He’s beta. He’s not omega, Sir. We’d have _smelt_ it Sir, he smells beta.

Kelso: Obviously Doctor Dorian was taking inhibitors. From what we’ve uncovered so far, he’s been taking these since at least studying at college, likely earlier. He would not have physically appeared or smelt omega. From what we can see, he was capable of managing his condition to a remarkable degree, even to the extent that a casual check of his blood would not show omega pheromones without specific testing.

Carla: His _condition_? Being omega isn’t a condition.

??: Everyone knows omegas can’t be doctors. They’re too stupid to pass the academic requirements and can’t control themselves, even if they were capable of focusing on books instead of knots for long enough to study. You recessives are lucky we let you be nurses.

_Well, that’s clearly Brenner. Bastard._

<snarling>

Kelso: Stop that.

Elliot: I notice he’s _Doctor_ Dorian. Not _Mr_ Dorian.

Kelso: Yes yes. Dorian is a qualified doctor, there’s no question about that. In fact, he did rather well at medical school, frequently top of his class. So clearly he at least occasionally wasn’t thinking about knots.

_Hah, in your face Brenner._

Doctor Wen: I don’t believe it. There’s clearly been an error somewhere. He’s beta.

Kelso: I can assure you, Doctor Wen, I’ve seen his registration card. Including a photo of him not on inhibitors. He’s a dominant omega. There’s no question of that.

_Shit._

Janitor: Oh please. That little gnat’s a beta.

Kelso: Who invited you? Dammit, go mop the latrines.

_That told you, Janitor._

Kelso: Now, Ted has been looking into the legal ramifications of this which, it would appear, are thankfully relatively minor. Had Dorian been an alpha masquerading as a beta then we’d be in one hell of a lot of trouble. As it is-

Brenner: As it is, the little bastard lied his way into a position he couldn’t have got honestly and was irresponsible and untruthful with patients. What if he’d forgotten to take his inhibitors and gone into heat?

_Have I mentioned how much I hate Brenner? I HATE Brenner. If I ever see him again I’m going to purposefully make so many pheromones he goes into a frothing rage over someone he hates this much._

Kelso: If he had then I’d have expected the alphas to control themselves, something which they seem to have a great deal of trouble with right now. I do not expect to be interrupted again, Doctor Brenner.

As it is, Doctor Dorian’s committed… well, what we can essentially see as intentionally withholding pertinent medical information. We see no legal challenge that could come about from patient treatments, Doctor Dorian has one of the lowest mortality rates in this hospital.

_Well, that’s unexpected._

Kelso: However… we have significant concerns over the fact that Doctor Dorian has been able to withhold this information from us. Had he volunteered it we would have been able to work with him to-

Brenner: You’d have _knowingly_ had a dominant omega doctor on the premises?

_Not that I ever want to agree with Brenner, but I’m also not convinced by that. For different reasons._

Kelso: As I have quite clearly stated, Doctor Brenner, there is no legal reason for this to not be allowed. Indeed, I’d imagine there _is_ a legal case to not allow it. Ted?

Ted: Like I said, Doctor Kelso, it would represent discrimination to refuse employment to anyone with the relevant qualifications based upon their gender.

Kelso: However, we have to take into account that extremely pertinent information was withheld that shows at best an irresponsibility and at worst a directed intent to sabotage our current practices. Whether Doctor Dorian agreed with those processes or not, he had a duty to inform management and colleagues about his status. He did not. As you are all aware, duty of care is one of the most important elements of medical practice and – I’m afraid to say – Doctor Dorian knowingly _did not follow_ this important practice. As a result… well, as a result, the hospital board is demanding a full investigation into his activities and anybody who supported him. There will be severe ramifications for all involved.

_What? What? NO. Go after me all you want but leave them out of this._

Turk: No, man, you can’t-

Kelso: Doctor Turk, I’ve made my position very clear.

Elliot: _How_ can you expect someone to volunteer information like that when there’s assholes like Brenner here making comments like he does? Do you seriously think that this is an environment where anyone would feel comfortable being honest about that?”

Kelso: We promote an environment of equality here, Doctor Reid.

Elliot: Yeah, right. How many of the staff are alphas, dominant or recessive? At least 60%, surely?

Kelso: Yes, Doctor Reid, but look at management. You have a beta chief of medicine and chief of surgery. The only alpha in a position of authority over anyone is Doctor Cox and that’s partially because he’s actually capable of controlling himself.

_Is he actually there? He’s not said anything, he normally makes noise just by existing._

Elliot: Yes, lots of betas, well done. Where are the omegas?

Kelso: <slight stammering> Some of the nurses.

Elliot: Exactly. ‘Some of the nurses’. How is that an equal environment when there’s not a single omega who’s a doctor? Well, not one who’s hiding it. And how many dominant omegas are there on the staff, Doctor Kelso?

Kelso: Apparently one.

Elliot: Exactly. One who didn’t want to put his head over the parapet.

Brenner: Shut up, Reid. It’s clear you were one of the one’s helping Dorian, you slept with him, right? Claiming you didn’t notice _that_? You two use a strap on or something?

I snarl and Iolite makes a shushing gesture at me as the van parks up in the car lot outside Sacred Heart.

The Todd: Strap on five.

Elliot: Omega males are exactly the same as beta males externally, you moron. No, I didn’t know. I’m just upset that _my friend_ had to feel he had to hide because of how you’d have all treated him. Assuming he’d even have kept his job, which I can’t say I’m convinced of, no matter what Doctor Kelso says.

Kelso: That’s enough, Doctor Reid. I appreciate that this is likely upsetting news, but don’t be insubordinate. I’m giving people the option to volunteer now to being aware of this… situation. Before we start a full scale investigation. We will be more lenient to those who volunteered their involvement and any information around… around how we can avoid such a situation in future.

Elliot: Improve your omega hunting capabilities, you mean?

Kelso: Shut _up_ , Doctor Reid. Is anyone going to come forward?

<silence>

Kelso: Let me be clear. Those who were closest to him will be under greatest suspicion. This is not a criminal investigation, it’s an internal matter. I do not _need_ to find evidence, you understand me? If those responsible do not own up to this then they may well find themselves in serious trouble.

_Wait, what? No. No no no no, he can’t do that, he can’t_. I throw a look at Iolite, seeing a grim expression of determination on her face. She beckons us towards the door and we decamp, continuing to listen in on the call as we walk towards to Sacred Heart.

Brenner: Seriously, Perry, you’re not going to say anything? What, considering what a loud mouth you usually are you’ve been suspiciously silent. Are you claiming you didn’t know? You had a dominant omega practically panting after you all day and night. What, was the agreement that you helped him out if he let you fuck him?

_Oh, so he is there. Also, screw pheromone bombing Brenner, I’m going to bite the bastard, I bet he’s not up to withstanding my venom._

Him, oh thank Lord, him, he sounds gravelly as hell and furious but it’s _him_ , I’m hearing _him_ : Don’t call me Perry, you piece of shit. No, there was no ‘agreement’ like that. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I can understand why someone like you would feel the need to blackmail someone into sleeping with them, but I haven’t generally had that problem myself.

He then launches into what must be the longest rant I’ve ever heard from him (and it’s up with some stiff competition). Iolite’s staring at her cell in concern, clearly worried that Doctor Cox has actually gone insane. I half-listen to it as we march through the quiet reception and up to the elevator. There’s a few staff around, but they all back off at the sight of the three dominant alphas looking like bodyguards. I’ve shoved a pair of shades on and keep my head down, but most of the focus is on Iolite. We get as far as the corridor outside the nurses’ station on the second floor and Iolite signals all of us to stop. We gather around the cell, listening to Doctor Cox continuing to rant. I pull my shades off and glance at Iolite. She shuffles closer and gives me a serious look.

“You know this could change everything, right?” Iolite asks. “Are you sure?”

I scoff. “You’re the one who needs to think about that, not me.”

“Your’s could really affect you way more than mine. I’m just going to do what I do best and act out. I’m going to _enjoy_ my part JD, don’t doubt it. I’m gonna get _messy_. But you… I mean, are you sure that he’s the one? Alex is actually a really decent guy. He’s a dominant alpha, got shit-loads of money and he totally wants to jump on you. And you’d get me as a sister, which I think should be the main attraction. Are you sure you want...” she beckons at the cell with a flick of her wrist “… well, no offense, but an angry, older alpha who demeans you half the time and spends the other half ranting like a psychopath?”

I pause, which gives us both the opportunity to hear the phrase ‘And yeah, good on you, Special K, going after everyone he was close to. Well, joke’s on you. All of you assholes, actually. Newbie fooled you all. He’s got such a damn good control on this shit that a dominant alpha who literally roomed with him at college had no idea that he was on inhibitors. It was all me and him, Bobbo, all the goddamn way. And y’know what? I’m fucking proud of that. Of me and the kid. And you’ll never change that or make me regret it.’ A weird, swooping sensation bubbles up in my stomach.

Not only has he pretty dramatically fallen on his own sword (would you really expect much else?), but he’s even tried to protect my friends. He did exactly what I would have done in the same situation, trying to spare as many people as possible. He’s brought all the heat directly down on himself. Hell, he didn’t even mention Dan.

I smile at Iolite. “I’m sure.”

She grins at me, feral and ever so slightly unhinged. “Then we launch operation ‘save your alpha’.”

Kelso: Are you done?

Doctor Cox: Yes. I’d imagine in all senses of the word.

Kelso: You’d be right there, Perry.

Doctor Cox: Percival Ulysses to you, Bob. Well, Percival Ulysus, if you’re going by my driving licence.

Iolite’s cell chimes with a message from Elliot: WHITE KNIGHT MOVES TO SAVE SABOTEUR.

What the hell?

Kelso: You’re suspended, Doctor Cox. With immediate effect. You’ll be investigated-

I shove Iolite towards the door and she bounds through with the momentum of it, dramatically crying out “Wait!”

Save him, dammit. The absolute idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "He’s not said anything, he normally makes noise just by existing" is a very accurate summation of Doctor Cox generally.
> 
> JD's sort of crush on Alex is supposed to demonstrate that 1. Alex is very dominant (could withstand bonding with JD) and 2. omegas are a little bit less biologically tied to their alphas than alphas are to omegas. So JD can sort of fancy another alpha, but then logically points out to himself that it wouldn't work at all and is a stupid idea. Which he can't do about Doctor Cox because awww pre-bonding/love/whatever. Alex sort of is in love with JD, but never mind. Poor Alex.
> 
> Alex has unexpectedly wormed his way into my heart and I sort of ship him and JD now, so am sad at the hopeless romance.
> 
> For all readers furious with Carla - Elliot and Iolite agree.


	21. 21. My Legal Solution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're finallllly all caught back up and can progress :D

**My Unorthodox Treatment**

**by RumCove**

**My Legal Solution**

Disclaimer: Scrubs original characters belong to Bill Lawrence and NBC/ABC/Doozer Productions etc. Basically, not owned by me. I own the original characters in this work.

My face is buried in Newbie’s shirt, arms wrapped tightly around him. I can feel him holding me firmly against him, his chin resting on my hair. I’m shaking slightly, the sheer relief of the situation making me feel dizzy. I’m well aware how ridiculous I look, how ‘un-alpha’, nearly collapsing and having an omega practically holding me upright, but I could care less. I inhale, smelling pomegranates and a soft hesitant scent that he’s trying to very mildly release. At least he’s consciously trying to do it now.

I’m so fucking glad he’s here that I don’t care how much I’d normally not even consider this. I snarl softly into his shirt and release an overpowering matching scent back at him, hearing several of the surrounding alphas shuffle back at it. Newbie says “oh” softly in response to my basically very loudly declaring that I love him. In scent form. Obviously.

Bobbo obviously doesn’t pick up on it, what with being beta. He clears his throat and I realize that he’s still only a couple of feet away from us. “Well. This is all very moving.”

I force my eyes open and lurch to my feet, glaring at him, keeping one arm wrapped around Newbie.

“I’m glad you’re apparently well, Doctor Dorian. Care to explain where the hell you’ve been and why you missed your shift?”

Newbie’s looking at Kelso with misgiving before lifting his left hand and pointing at it. “I was getting treatment.”

“And why didn’t you come here?”

“Because Sacred Heart doesn’t have specialist omega treatment facilities?”

He’s trying so goddamn hard to be sassy, but it’s not working, he sounds absolutely terrified and I can feel him shaking. After being on inhibitors so long this must be the equivalent of being naked in front of everyone you know. I tighten my arm around his waist slightly.

“So, you are coming clean about being omega are you, sport?” I wonder if Bobbo realizes that he just slipped on his whole ‘Doctor Dorian’ spiel and accidentally called Newbie by the slightly more affectionate nickname he sometimes deploys.

“I… I never said that I wasn’t omega. Or that I was beta. People just assumed that-“

“Don’t even try that, Doctor Dorian. There’s one hell of a difference between not correcting a spelling mistake-“ Bob’s glaring at me “-and not correcting a repeated assumption that you’re something that you’re not. Let alone timing your blood tests the way you did, although don’t get me wrong sport, you must be an absolute whiz with your chemistry set to manage that.”

Newbie hangs his head.

“Doctor Dorian, Doctor Cox, you are both suspended with immediate-“

“No, they are _not_ ,” snaps The Jesus Lizard. She’s still standing, glaring furiously at Kelso. “There’s no legal reason you can suspend them. All JD was doing was his job and – as you mentioned yourself – withholding some medical information. According to Sacred Heart’s staff contract that’s a disciplinary offense, not a suspension. And Doctor Cox can’t be held accountable for any action that he took under the bonded representation defense. He was acting to protect his bonded partner. Legally there’s nothing you can do against him.”

Wait, what? Bonded? We aren’t bonded. I glance at Newbie, who’s determinedly not looking at me. The leather collar around his neck finally makes sense.

These two little idiots have cooked up _this_ as a defense? Seriously? Pretend we’re bonded? That’s going to go well, we don’t smell bonded (although Bob doesn’t know that) and are we going to pretend that Newbie’s been wearing a polo neck for the last few months or something to avoid anyone seeing the mating bite? And what about when he eventually has to take the goddamn collar off?

I lower my head to very quietly growl in his ear: “ _This_ is your plan?”

He growls back: “At least I _have_ a plan. Your’s was apparently to rant and commit career suicide.”

That was indeed the plan. I enjoyed it immensely.

“Oh, really?” Brenner has suddenly stalked forwards, glaring at us both. “Well, they sure as hell don’t _smell_ bonded. So why don’t we take that little necklace off and-“

He reaches out towards Newbie’s throat and I snarl at him furiously, dragging JD behind me protectively, spitting out “Don’t you _dare_ touch him.”

Brenner freezes, a look of distaste on his face. “Jesus, how did none of us see the two of you? You’ve always been weird about him.”

“Alright, calm down,” Kelso snaps. “This is getting us nowhere. Miss FitzAlan, maybe instead of making a commotion you should-“

Violent Soho (God, I need to come up with something static to call her, I’m running out here) laughs sharply at that and then abruptly bounds onto the nurses’ station desk, grinning at Kelso. “A commotion? You want to see a commotion?”

Brenner suddenly darts forward, seizing Newbie by the collar. Newbie lets out a hideous snarl in response, making Brenner immediately drop him and flinch back, Newbie’s snarl dropping down into a low, furious growl. Jesus, I had no idea that omegas could growl like that. Apparently neither did Brenner, who’s staring at him in horror. “Shit, he’s feral, we need to get the registry to come and take care of him.“

_"No!"_

We all stare over to the desk where Iolite (screw it, I’ll figure something out later, I’m _tired_ , dammit) appears to be holding up a nasal spray, pale and looking suddenly terrified, staring at Brenner. She drags her gaze away from him to look shakily back at Kelso and speaks, her voice noticeably wobbling as she does so:

“Doctor Kelso, the footage from that camera and cellphone are being saved to cloud storage. Everything that’s been said is being stored. Everything that _will_ be said is being stored. Are you still happy with what you said? That you, Doctor Kelso, Chief of Medicine for Sacred Heart hospital, believe that alphas are acceptable medical professionals but not omegas?”

Kelso’s glaring at her. “I never said that, young lady.”

“But that’s the implication, right? _Everything_ that you’ve said about it implies that very heavily, although you admittedly haven’t outright said it the way that bastard did.”

“I cannot change the rules, young lady. Even if I would like to.”

I notice Newbie snap his attention to Kelso crisply at that, then stare at Iolite. He shakes his head at her sharply. She isn’t looking at him though, so whatever he’s trying to message doesn’t work.

“Anyone know what this is?”

“It’s a quick snap,” Carla supplies. A what what?

"Io!" Newbie's staring at her beseechingly and when she looks back at him he shakes his head at her desperately. She frowns, pausing in whatever she had planned and lowers the hand holding the nasal spray slightly.

"I'm calling them and stopping this idiocy, they can get them both in bite guards and-" Brenner begins, taking his cellphone from his pocket and starting to dial a number, presumably for the omega registration line. I choke slightly, realizing that if they do come then Newbie's unbonded and they could - they could -

“Screw that,” Iolite says flatly. “Let’s see how well alphas really do perform as medical professionals.” She raises the nasal spray to her nose and inhales sharply.

“Shit,” Newbie mutters. A second later I realize why.

The spicy, metallic scent is suddenly _everywhere_. I can feel it in the back of my nose, my sinuses, God, I can even _taste_ it. It’s wrong though, smells similar to how Newbie smelt both on the roof and in the Porsche when I was driving him to the heat clinic, but not the same. One obvious difference is the strong rosepetal smell, similar to how Amber FitzAlan had smelt although subtly different. Also, it’s somehow more intense than how Newbie smelt and I realize with a sudden stab of shock how dominant Iolite must be.

Despite all this, I can still feel the horrible fug this shit creates in my brain. I growl, reversing away from her, grabbing Newbie by the collar and pulling him with me.

“ _This_ is your plan? After what happened to her sister, she’s seriously doing _this_?”

“No, this was her idea, I didn’t think… I was trying to stop her just now.”

His eyes are wide, staring around the room. I don’t blame him; the majority of the medical staff appear to have rapidly descended into some sort of animal state. Even Brenner’s completely abandoned his cellphone and has joined the throng of alphas mindlessly surging towards the desk. The bodyguards and the other alpha have moved to make a protective ring around her and the much smaller proportion of omega and beta staff have joined them. It’s all descended to chaos. The fact that one of the bodyguards appears to be now playing some sort of loud, anthem-style music and Iolite appears to be damn well _prancing_ on the desk along to the beat make it particularly bizarre.

“What the absolute hell is going on?” Kelso snaps at us.

“She’s in heat,” Newbie replies, almost mournfully.

“Oh, good Lord.”

“Yeah.”

Iolite suddenly pins Kelso with a glare and then turns to one of the alphas with the video camera. “Doctor Kelso over there thinks that alphas are more appropriate at dealing with medical emergencies than omegas are.”

Iolite does a rather balletic spin, directly looking into the camera and then strikes a pose, writhing slightly. Several of the alphas are already going crazy, throwing themselves into walls and one another. She sneers, a look of disdain twisting her elfin features and then looks directly at Bob. When she speaks she’s pitched her high, slightly reedy voice to carry.

“So, Doctor Kelso of Sacred Heart hospital. You think that dominant omegas can’t be doctors because of how we are? Because we’re ‘controlled by our biology’?”

Iolite casts a derisive glance at the alphas behind her.

“Because, you see, I’m an omega and I’m currently in heat.” She twists one leg slightly and points at her inner thigh, visible slick already dripping down her flushed skin. The alphas that seemed to be controlling themselves at this point utterly break and start to yammer at her, which she ignores. “And I seem to be one of the only ones in here who can control myself.”

It’s an absolutely shocking thing to see an omega to do, if I’m honest. The conservative part of me is horrified at the crudity of it, of an omega showing something that they’re essentially trained to be ashamed and embarrassed about. But the more logical part of me acknowledges what she’s saying, that it’s no more shocking than seeing an alpha with a visible knot – which happens plenty.

Newbie has suddenly surged forward and made an odd noise in response to this, an ululating cry that sounds… joyful. The rest of the omegas respond, all letting out the same noise and I realize with a start that it’s some sort of solidarity call. I try not to smirk when I see Barbie attempting to join in.

Newbie’s pulled in front of the group protecting Iolite and _snarled_ at several of the alphas, who take several hurried steps back. Newbie glares at them and then backs up so that he's directly in front of Iolite, staring down any of the alphas that try to come close and continuing to growl threateningly. The alphas are clearly totally unable to process a furious dominant omega and are backing up, starting to snap and squabble with one another. Iolite glances at Newbie in front of her, rolls her eyes and abruptly pulls out a lighter, holding it under the fire detection system.

The sprinklers explode above us, drenching everyone. Iolite continues to dance and the water combined with her pheromones practically fogs up the room, spreading the pheromones further out. I feel like the water should dampen down the pheromones, but it seems to have the opposite effect, making the room feel humid and smell like someone doused a rosebush in sex. Then set it on fire.

I watch as Iolite kicks the standing water on the nurses’ station and starts to dance with abandon, writhing and twisting, combining it with balletic flicks and poses, splashing into the forming puddles as she does so, the movements frenetic and jerky, occasionally halting and posing. The alphas all freeze, mesmerized and I can feel my own gaze dragged onto her, even though I strongly want to be keeping an eye on Newbie after his recently disappearing act. Iolite drops down onto one knee and mutters into JD’s ear before standing up and calling out again:

“Doctor Kelso! You think these alphas are more capable than an omega, even now?”

The lighting’s flickering, the electrical system drenched by the sprinklers, steam rising up from around Iolite, her heat clearly rapidly warming the air around her.

“Because right now if someone were to become ill, well… what would they do? What if Doctor Reid had a heart attack? Doctor Reid?”

Barbie clutches her chest and collapses onto the floor. The alphas all ignore her.

“Doctor Reid there, demonstrating her excellent extra curricular thespian talents. Now I’ll do mine.” Iolite drops to her knees, clutching at her chest theatrically. “Oh no! Won’t somebody help her?”

Carla moves over to Barbie and pulls her upright. Iolite sits down, cross-legged on the desk, smirking at Kelso like a demonic little garden gnome. “Oh look. An omega can.”

Kelso, who’s been uncharacteristically silent through this whole affair, although emanating furious vibes, suddenly stalks towards the desk, apparently trying to get the alphas around the desk to calm down. He fails completely, although manages to distract them enough for a soaking wet Newbie to squirm out of the throng and appear at my side, grasping my hand.

“Come on.”

“What?” I snap at him.

“Come on, she’s doing it as a distraction, let’s not waste it.”

He starts dragging me along behind him. My brain’s still not working properly, the annoying fug being impossible to think properly through. He wrenches me through the double doors and the sudden wave of clear air feels cool and fresh. I inhale deeply, feeling my cognitive capabilities already starting to function better.

“What in the hell _was_ that, Newbie?”

He glances back at the noise still thudding out from the nurses’ station. “I think it was ‘Confident’ by Demi Lovato.”

“Not the music, you idiot, what the hell is going on?”

He pulls me into the elevator and hits the button for the top floor. As it starts ascending he glances at me and then sighs. “We were listening to what was happening. On Elliot’s cell.”

“Yeah, I figured that out, Newbie. Why the hell didn’t you contact me and let me know you were safe? Jesus, kid, I thought you’d been-been-“

I break off, not wanting to think about it. Bad enough I’ve been living through it for the last 24 hours.

“I… I tried. I left a message on Iolite’s vlog, I thought you might think to look there.”

Oh. I fold my arms and glare at him. “No, Newbie, I didn’t think to look there, I was too busy combing the damn streets thinking I might find you dead there.”

I somehow manage to say it without any inflection. Or continue the other thought, that he might be out in Ohio selling himself, thinking it would be the right thing to do. He blinks at me.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t have my cellphone and I couldn’t figure how to get a message to you…” He trails off and then tries to hug me. I shove him off, not hugely wanting to have a sodden embrace in an elevator and still feeling pissed at him. This whole thing is a total mess and he’s just exacerbated it. He looks at his feet in response and I ignore the way his face crumples slightly at the rejection.

“Anyway, we heard you… claiming everything was you. And so I okayed Iolite to come in and try to give you the legal defense she came up with. She’s… she’s a lawyer, you see. Or training to be one.”

“So she said.”

“Well, her legal case was pretty solid.” The elevator pings and Newbie exits, beckoning me to follow him. As he ascends the stairs to the roof he continues: “She thought she could get you off on a legal argument. That was what I was hoping would happen, I didn’t want to go anywhere near this.”

“The bonded thing? Isn’t that kind of dumb, Newbie? We _aren’t_ bonded.”

“Yeah, but we're sort of half-bonded. And Kelso can’t smell that and we were betting that he wouldn’t have been able to definitely say whether he’d seen my neck recently and… well, we could claim all kinds of things, really. We were trying to give Kelso an out, rather than convince him.”

“An out?”

“Yeah, an out.” Newbie pulls the door to the roof open and then locks and bars it behind us. “We thought if we gave him enough to return to the board with and demonstrate that there had been no legal issue and it would be costly and damaging to pursue it, then he’d back down off you. Only he didn’t. Possibly because you ranted at him so much.”

I glare at him. “Well, I do apologize, Karen. I happened to not know where you were or how you were and I kind of felt I had nothing left to lose.”

He blinks at me and I realize I’ve given away more than I meant to. I sigh. “And what’s with this whole bonded argument thing, anyway?”

“Well, I’m technically not legally responsible for anything I do, my alpha is. Technically that’s Dan, but if I was bonded to you then it’d be you. _But_ there’s a legal argument that a bonded alpha can transgress the law if it’s protecting a bonded omega. It’s usually used in criminal cases – did you know that an alpha once killed another alpha who made advances on their omega? It wasn’t even tried in the end because of this bonded thing. So, since it works on really serious stuff, we thought it might work on this. Then neither of us would be legally accountable.”

“But it didn’t work.”

“Well, no, Kelso didn’t bite. So I came in, hoping I could argue the case better-“

“You failed at that, Newbie.”

“I noticed. But Iolite thought if Kelso saw us together it might convince him that we’re bonded.”

“But we aren’t-“

“No, but we’re in a sort of… prebond thing. It’s similar. But it didn’t work anyway. So Iolite’s gone for her last option, which is the sort of… theatrical thing she’s currently doing where she's done a double whammy of heating and displaying.”

“Making the alphas act like morons? And is displaying that weird dance thing she was doing that seemed to fascinate them all?”

“Yeah. Then she’ll threaten Kelso that she’ll put in on her vlog.”

_Shit._ “That could destroy the hospital.”

“I know. It’s why I told her not to, when Kelso said about… about not wanting to. But she did it anyway. It’s also a distraction technique.”

“Distraction them from what?”

“This,” Newbie’s pulling the leather collar off, clipping it around his uninjured wrist. I frown at him.

“What?”

He gives me a tired look. “The bonded argument wasn’t entirely desperate. If you bite me, we can protect you with all of that. No one tested me before and so they can’t know I wasn’t bonded to you when you were helping me.”

I stare at him. Then frown again. “That is the least romantic thing I’ve ever heard, Newbie.”

He looks surprised, apparently not expecting this response. “What?”

“I mean, don’t get me wrong here, Princess, but what the hell sort of suggestion is that?”

“Uh. Well, similar to ‘how about I throw you a bone and fuck you for medical reasons only’?”

I flush angrily. “Dammit, Newbie, you know I’m like that. What were you expecting me to do, chase you with flowers and chocolates?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, _I’m_ the insensitive asshole, not you. Why are you suddenly getting all practical?”

He looks exasperated. “Because I’m trying to _save_ you, for God’s sake. What’s the problem?”

“There’s no problem, Newbie, why the hell would there be a problem?”

He’s gazing at me, his eyes narrowed. “Well, what were you expecting, me to propose?”

“Well kinda,” I respond, annoyed, then freeze, staring at him in horror. He stares back at me, a look of shock on his face.

“W-what?” When I don’t reply, apparently incapable of doing so as I've been struck dumb from letting that little embarrassing admission escape, he rolls his eyes and then gets down onto one knee. “Fine, bite me?”

“Oh, great, thanks Newbie.” I pull him upright and look into his eyes intently. “Do you want this?”

He blinks. “Well, I want you to not be affected by all this.”

“Nahwt what I was asking, Newbie.”

He tries to look away from me and I grab his face to stop him. He gives me a worried, vulnerable glance. “I mean, it makes sense, right? I don’t know about you, but I’m having some pretty bad symptoms from _not_ being around you and-“

“Again, Newbie, not what I’m asking. Do _you_ want this?”

He gazes back at me balefully and then looks around shiftily. “I… I…”

I kiss him briefly and stroke my hands through his hair, looking into his eyes. “I don’t want you to feel you have to do this for my sake, JD.”

“I don’t,” he replies softly.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. I… I love you.” He says it exhaustedly, appearing to not even want to let it slip out, then flinching afterwards. Part of me’s tempted to reply with ‘I know’ or something similar, but I know that’s what he’s scared of. That or downright rejection.

“I love you too,” I tell him, honestly. “And not just because you’re an omega, alright? You whiny, annoying bastard.”

He smiles and I kiss him again, more soundly this time. “I would have preferred to not have done this on a damn hospital roof though. Any particular reason you decided on this place?”

“Because you can bar the door. And… it seemed sort of fitting, considering it’s where you found out…”

“Fair enough.”

I glance at the door. There’s no one trying to force their way through, but I can’t be sure how long we have. I move us out of visual range from anyone looking through and notice he’s turned his head to one side to expose his neck, his eyes screwed closed.

“If we’re doing this then I want to do it properly.”

“Huh?”

“I mean I want you to bite me back, Newbie.”

He looks worried. “But-“

“But nothing. If I do it facing you then you’ll end up with you face basically pressed up against my scent gland anyway. I _want_ you to do it back, okay?”

“Okay…”

I look at the smooth, flawless alabaster skin of his neck and feel a spasm of regret that I’m about to permanently damage it. “I’ll try to be as… neat as I can, alright?”

I move forward, wrapping my arms around him and pressing my nose against his neck, gently kissing the warm skin. He sighs softly, circling his arms back around me and starts to give off bonding pheromones, a rich, heady smell of pomegranate and sweetness that immediately starts to make my fangs ache.

I carefully turn my head so that my canines are lined up vertically along his neck. For some reason it’s important for me to _not_ have it look like I could have bitten him during sex, the way most omegas end up bonded. I want it to be clear that this is deliberate. I lick his throat and he squeaks to himself.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

I bite.

\- - - - -

Oh _God_. Oh God, oh fuck, oh _God_ , this hurts.

I mean, I knew this was going to hurt, obviously, but I hadn’t realized how intensely it would hurt. I feel his canines sink down into me, which was obviously always going to be pretty painful, but it’s the sudden pulse of cold liquid into me from them that starts to really _really_ hurt. I can feel it spreading through me, burning like ice, making me shudder violently. I let out a pained gasp and try to stay standing upright, my head already spinning. If I thought my biology was going haywire before then it’s got nothing on this. My teeth are starting to ache in response, priming to bite him back, constant waves of cold shivering through me, the epicenter where he’s biting into me.

I can’t think, can’t hear, can’t focus on anything but the pain and trying not to scream. I feel one of his hands cup the back of my head and he’s pressing my face against his neck.

I force my eyes open and snuffle weakly. He’s producing bonding pheromones back at me, inviting me to bite him back. I trace my front teeth over his scent gland weakly, him still supporting my head. A wash of… something runs through me and I close my eyes, giving in to it, allowing my jaws to snap closed onto his neck and lock in place as I release the venom into his blood.

\- - - - -

Jesus, I’m glad I got myself checked after that time at the heat clinic. His venom damn well feels like it’s boiling through me. I’m having to basically hold him upright, he’s slumped heavily against me. My canines are still locked into his neck, although I think that’s about to loosen, the constant, violent throb from them has reduced to a tingling sensation that I think means I’m nearly finished.

There’s a thudding noise on the door to the roof. I’ve no idea how long that’s been going on, my main focus has been on the slow relief of the venom being drained out of my canines and then the sharp pain of Newbie biting me, followed by the heat of his venom getting into my bloodstream. It feels weird, feels like it’s slowly eking into every part of me. It’s an odd combination of painful, unnerving and oddly comforting.

My jaws finally unlock and I carefully pull away from Newbie’s neck, flinching when I see the state of it. The bite itself doesn’t look too bad, two very clear widely spaced puncture wounds from my fangs and then some damage from when my jaws locked closed, visible marks from my incisors which will hopefully eventually fade. All of them look painful and livid against his pale skin, still bleeding sluggishly, venom and saliva coating his neck. His scent gland is now the same vivid red as the bite marks. I self-consciously wipe my mouth on my sleeve and then press my material against his neck, trying to stop the oozing blood flow.

My finishing doesn’t appear to have any impact on Newbie, who’s still apparently attached to my neck. I shuffle back and sit down against the low wall on the roof, dragging him along with me and trying to stop my head spinning. God, I feel tired. I was feeling tired before all this, but now I feel dead on my feet. Biting someone is unexpectedly… draining. And also being bitten, since I’m presumably still getting a shit-load of venom being introduced into my system. I try to look over at him and fail.

“You doing okay, Newbie?”

“Hrrr.”

I have no idea what that means. There’s a more violent slam on the door and I glance over at it.

“Newb, it would be good if you could finish soon, it sounds like we’re about to have company.”

“Hrrr?”

“Pretty soon, I’d have thought.”

He makes an odd grumbling noise in response. I gently unclip the collar from his wrist. “I’m going to put this collar thing back on, okay? The compression might stop the bleeding.”

“Hrkry.”

I think that’s an ‘okay’. I snap it back closed around his neck as carefully as possible. It hides the evidence of what’s just happened, although how we’re supposed to cover him biting me I’m not sure of. Presumably Newbie wasn’t expecting me to be quite so egalitarian in this thing.

The door bursts open suddenly and the Janitor, Kelso and – oh, good Lord, why – Brenner all stagger out onto the roof. Then stare at me in shock, presumably because I’m essentially sat on a wall looking nauseated and with Newbie sprawled on my lap, his face pressed against my neck. Hopefully they just think he’s overwhelmed or something.

I feel a spike of annoyance. This is _private_ , damn it, stop staring. I glare back at them and then feel Newbie’s jaws suddenly release. He starts to cough weakly and drops his forehead down to rest against my chin, his eyes closed. My neck feels unpleasantly wet and cold in response and I suspect he’s made much more of a mess of me than I did of him. Great. Thanks Newbie, you little bastard.

“Can I help you?” I snap at Kelso, Brenner and the Janitor, who all appear to be rooted to the spot.

“Uh… you’re bleeding, Perry.”

I pull the collar of my shirt up over it, knowing it likely makes no difference and not really caring. Newbie lets out a sudden, sharp whine and starts to slump further down me. I catch him and drag him upright.

“What have you _done_ , Perry?”

To my surprise, Bob sounds genuinely horrified, like he actually gives a shit about Newbie. “He’s fine,” I mutter in response, ignoring the fact that actually he possibly isn’t. I’m not sure he’s conscious right now.

Kelso has taken a few steps forward and then stopped again, looking an odd combination of shocked and furious. “Oh, for Pete’s sake. You didn’t need to do this, for God’s sake, I –“ He breaks off and turns to Brenner. “Do you have _any_ expertise in treating bites?”

Brenner looks at Kelso shiftily, then sighs. “When I bit my omega she did something similar, it’s the alpha venom overwhelming their systems. But we were tested before we did it to make sure it wasn’t too damaging, I assume that Cox had Dorian checked. Adrenaline might help.”

I clutch Newbie closer to me and growl at them all. Brenner glances at me. “That won’t help either, alphas get very... defensive after.”

Kelso sighs and then moves closer to me, although warily, like he’s approaching an angry bear. “Perry, for God’s sakes. I currently have a second floor in complete disarray that’s had to be cordoned off from all the pheromones, the on call room currently has… well, I don’t want to think what Miss FitzAlan and Doctor Quinlan are doing in there, but the staff can all hear it pretty graphically. Please don’t add to this with my having a member of staff possibly die on the roof because another member of staff _bit_ them.”

“Oh, _are_ we still members of staff, Bob? Only I got the distinct impression that-“

“You were both suspended, not _fired_ , Perry. Incidentally, you were then both going to be reinstated, all this drama was completely unnecessary.”

_Dammit_.

Newbie slumps further down me, collapsing heavily onto the ground. Shit. Shit shit shit. Kelso ignores my apparent bear-like presence to dart over to him and roll him onto his back. I bite back a stab of panic, seeing how pale he is, his eyelashes fluttering. Kelso yanks the collar off sharply, responding to my angry snarl with an “oh, grow up, Perry,” and taking Newbie’s pulse.

“He’s tachycardic.”

I stagger upright, catching myself as a surge of dizziness runs over me. Dammit.

“Brenner, pick him up, we need to get him under observation and – Christ, Perry, _stop snarling_. You think you’re in any condition to carry Dorian around the hospital?”

Brenner’s already scooped Newbie up and started to carry him out the door. I trail after them all, joining them in the elevator and feeling incredibly stupid and useless.

“Jesus Christ Cox, it’s just like you to hook up with a weirdly enormous omega.”

“Shut up, Brenner.” I snap back. “And don’t you dare even _look_ at him.”

“Oh, screw you Perry. He’s not remotely appealing, for one thing he stinks of you.” Brenner’s right, Newbie’s emanating the weird pomegranate-fir scent again. It’s two complete opposites and so should smell utterly wrong, but doesn’t somehow. “And he’s _heavy_.”

“He’s not _that_ heavy.” I lie. Newbie’s sort of dainty, in a way, but weighs considerably more than he looks like he should, like he’s denser than most people somehow. Well, he’s definitely dense, considering this whole fiasco.

I close my eyes and lean my head back against the elevator wall. I’m feeling… hot? I think it’s Newbie’s venom, he’s always warm. I’m presumably also releasing the weird pine-pomegranate pheromones now too, which is a weird thought. I open my eyes and roll them over to the mirror in the elevator and am greeted with confirmation that, yes, Newbie’s made a mess of my neck. I fold the shirt collar down and wince. Looks like I’m going to end up with his dental record on my throat.

“You should probably get that looked at as well, Chief,” Kelso mutters.

“Why on earth did you let him _bite_ you?” Brenner asks, for once not sounding like a dick and more curious. I shrug.

“Seemed fair.” And I wanted it to be mutual, to be equal. I don’t think Brenner will get that though.

The Janitor is staring at Newbie with a weird expression on his face, like he’s some sort of fascinating stuffed rodent. I narrow my eyes at him. “Stop that, Lurch.”

The doors chime open and Brenner hurries through. The second floor is now apparently completely out of bounds, with us going onto the third floor and into the nearest vacant room. Brenner deposits Newbie surprisingly gently onto the bed and then hooks him up to the heart rate monitor. It immediately starts beeping through frenetically at 170.

Shit. I collapse down into a chair next to the bed and stroke a hand over his chest, feeling his heartbeat hammering through him. “Wouldn’t adrenaline make this worse?”

“Possibly,” Brenner’s cleaning the bite on Newbie’s neck before applying gauze. “He may just need to ride it out. That’s why he needs to be under observation, he could go into cardiac arrest.”

He moves over to me. “Turn your head Cox, stop being so damn stubborn.”

I growl, but do as he tells me as he considerably less gently cleans my neck. I hear him hiss sharply as some of Newbie’s venom gets onto his skin and smugly think to myself that that’s why he should be damn well wearing gloves. “Yeah, I’d be careful of that stuff, Brenner.”

“You’re the idiot who allowed it into your bloodstream. He’s made a mess of this, Cox, you’re going to scar much worse than him.”

I shrug. In a way I’m slightly pleased about that. He bit me when I was already biting him after all, he was likely in a lot of pain and I’d imagine trying to neatly bite me wouldn’t have been the top priority on his mind. I’m just proud of him that he damn well did it, that he committed to it.

I glance back at Newbie while Brenner applies gauze to my neck, muttering something to himself about sutures. Kelso’s sat on the edge of the bed looking at him with an odd expression before gently putting a hand over his. I frown.

“What’s up there, Bobbo?”

Kelso doesn’t look back at me. “Brenner, are you done?”

“Yes, Doctor Kelso.”

“Well, go check on the second floor, see if it’s habitable again.”

Brenner makes a face. “But I’m an _alpha_ , it’ll affect me worse-“

“Exactly, so if you aren’t affected then we know it’s possible for non-beta staff to go there. Then report to Doctor Wen, he’s down there trying to organize the deep-cleaning.”

When Brenner’s gone Kelso gives me a tired look. “Seriously, Perry? You couldn’t just trust me?”

I stare at him blankly. “What do you mean?”

“I wasn’t kidding, Perry. I was going to suspend you both, find no legal ramifications and get you both back in.”

Newbie’s head turns fitfully on the pillow and then he opens his eyes exhaustedly, looking up at Kelso who gives him a tired smile in return. “Hello sport. How’re you feeling?”

“Ow.”

“A very effective diagnosis.” I see Newbie smile slightly in return. Kelso turns back to me.

“If you’d just let me deal with it there wouldn’t have been all this drama, Perry.”

“It wasn’t my drama,” I give Newbie a pointed glance, who looks despondent. “And why would I expect you to help us out, Bob? You certainly didn’t take any of the outs that crazy omega gave you, if you were willing to help why didn’t you take them?”

“Because I can’t have any of my actions under any question, Perry. I was tempted, God, I was tempted to. I was even tempted to let you off, despite the very public scene you made. But any of those would have been questioned and I _can’t_ be questioned, Perry. That matters more than you or Dorian, do you understand that?”

I stare at him blankly. “Not questioning you matters more than me or him?”

“Harrison,” Newbie says softly. Kelso glances at him and then nods.

“Harrison?” I ask, confused.

“My son is… the same as Doctor Dorian. So I am well aware of the cost of inhibitors and the difficulties to overcome. Admittedly, my son is somewhat less… dedicated than Doctor Dorian here, but he tries. He may have let the system get the better of him at times-“

“Harrison?!” I spit. “Who you tell all those ridiculous stories about and-“

“Yes, Perry, those _manufactured_ ridiculous stories that give me some explanation as to why I still work here, despite clearly hating it. The same as my apparent large numbers of mistresses and additional wives and claims that Enid is wheelchair-bound so everyone feels too uncomfortable to even consider coming to my house. All ways of explaining my trying to support my son as best as I can. Most of the stories are exaggerations. Apart from his designing and sewing baseball uniforms. Unfortunately.”

“Well… shit, Bob. And there was me thinking you’re just an asshole.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong Perry. I am. I’m just an asshole who happens to have a dominant omega for a son. And I can’t risk that being uncovered due to any apparent leniency.”

Newbie’s moved his right hand to cover mine on his chest and I gently squeeze it. Kelso watches us.

“So the point I’m making here is that it really wasn’t necessary to do what you just did. You realize this ties you to him for life, sport?”

Newbie squeezes my hand harder. “Yeah.”

“You seem surprisingly… unconcerned by that.”

“The kid’s an idiot,” I observe. “Anyone else would be running away screaming.”

“With good cause,” Bob snarks back. I grin at him. Kelso glances over at the heart monitor.

“Well, he seems to be stabilizing, so his physical health appears improving, even if his mental health is a lost cause.”

Newbie huffs softly. I stroke his hair with my free hand and he purrs tiredly in response, his eyes fluttering closed. I gaze at him for a while, watching him drift off. I glance up, seeing Kelso watching me closely and feel another stab of self-consciousness.

“I possibly misunderstood the situation,” Kelso notes quietly.

“Wouldn’t surprise me, Bob, wouldn’t be the first time.”

“I appreciate the two of you shouldn’t be separated long in your current… state… but I could do with your assistance on the first floor.”

“What exactly is happening there?”

“Well… as you know, Miss FitzAlan took it upon herself to induce her own heat…”

“Yes. I wasn’t a part of that insanity, Bob.”

“Yes, I sort of picked that up from your expression when it happened. Well, she eventually required… assistance and apparently chose Doctor Quinlan, God knows why.”

“Who’s Doctor Quinlan?”

“Seriously, Perry? That idiotic surgeon, you know.”

“Oh my God. Sonic the Hedgehog has no discernment, it would appear.”

“Yes, she said something along the lines of ‘he’s funny’ and then dragged him into the on call room. Her bodyguards are outside, she seems relatively safe, if another omega with highly questionable taste.”

I lift my eyebrows. He continues: “Her brother seems to be getting increasingly anxious, both about her and Doctor Dorian. I was hoping you could deal with him?”

I glance back over at Newbie, who seems to have crashed back out and haul myself to my feet with a sigh. “Isn’t the first floor drenched in pheromones right now?”

Kelso shrugs. “We’ve put the AC on full blast and they seem to be dissipating. And you’ve always had a bit more self-control than most of the knuckle draggers.”

I frown. “This is sli- _hightly_ different, Bobbo.”

I trail out after him, already feeling infuriating anxious to be parted from Newbie. Jesus, is this what being bonded is going to be like? I growl to myself.

“What’s wrong, Perry?”

“Nothing.”

He glances back at me and rolls his eyes. “Relax, Champ, it’ll wear off. It’s a bonding reaction.”

“How’d you know about this kind of shit, Bob? You’re a beta.”

He shrugs again and calls the elevator. I shift on my feet and glance back towards his room, getting an exasperated glance from Kelso again as he steps into the elevator and I reluctantly trudge after him.

I flinch when the elevator doors open again. It’s a lot less intense now, but still enough to make my head reel slightly. Bob glances at me, apparently noticing me paling.

“Still bad, huh?”

I snort. “You could say that, Boberoo.”

There’s also a strong scent of anguished alpha. On arrival at the sodden nurses’ station, that would appear to be the alpha who came in with Newbie’s little group of avengers. He’s pacing nervously, feet splashing in the standing water. He twitches as I walk in and spins around, staring at me blankly. His eyes flicker over the bandaging on my neck and there’s an odd expression on his face briefly.

“Oh,” he says flatly. “He did it then.”

I lift an eyebrow at him. “How cryptic.”

“JD, obviously. I wasn’t sure if he’d go through with it, but since you smell like him now it seems he decided to pick the crazy option.”

How flattering. I open my mouth to retort, interrupted by something slamming into the wall of the on-call room, the idiot surgeon loudly yelling out “oh my God, this is _awesome_ ”. The boy pales, looking sickened.

“Why on earth are you here listening to your sister in heat, Nice-But-Dim?” I snap at him. He shrugs.

“I wanted to make sure she was alright. Her and JD.”

“JD’s not your concern,” I snarl. He glares at me.

“Hey, asshole, my other little sister _died_ in her last heat. Sorry if I’m worried about the surviving one and sorry if I’m worried about the other omega I’ve been trying to look after.”

I feel somewhat shitty about how I’m acting from that reminder, despite how much it sets my teeth on edge to hear him say he’s been ‘looking after’ Newbie. I sigh and rub a hand across my eyes. God, I’m tired, I just want to go and lie next to Newbie’s bed and sleep for about forty hours.

“He’s in room 307. Touch him and die.”

He blinks and glances back towards the on-call room. I manage to grind out, as gently as I can manage: “She’ll be fine. The people here are decent, even the idiot she’s with is alright. Total moron, but alright.”

He looks back at me, nods curtly and then slopes off towards the elevator. I watch him go, glowering, then look back at Kelso.

“That was surprisingly altruistic of you.”

I scoff. “He’s just a kid, he’s no threat to me.”

“Yes, a younger, fitter, richer alpha. You tell yourself that, Chief.”

I ignore him and glance around the first floor. It’s a total mess. “Say, Bob, does the insurance cover this kind of shit?”

“If not I’ll bill the FitzAlans.”

I frown. “You realize what they’re planning with the footage, right?”

Kelso sighs. “Obviously. Puts me in a difficult situation, as I’m sure you’ll be delighted to hear.”

To my shock, the Janitor is actually mopping up some of the water damage. Even Brenner appears to be helping Carla, reaching up to get the AC working where she can’t reach. I watch them all for a moment.

“You’ll be surprised to hear that no, that doesn’t delight me. I didn’t want any of this, Bob. I was supposed to say only I knew he was an omega and leave. I didn’t think the stupid little bastard would come try to rescue me. Or… or any of this.”

The Janitor glances over and then straightens up. “Angry Doc wasn’t the only one who knew. I knew.”

I’m about to make a furious retort when Bob stamps on my foot sharply. I glance over at him, confused at the calculating expression on his face. Doctor Wen clearly picks up on it too.

“Yes, I knew as well, Doctor Kelso.”

"I knew," Sanders growls.

“And me.” Carla pipes up. I stare around the room, utterly bemused as various doctors and nurses pick up on whatever the hell is going on, chirping out “and me”. Even Terrified Ted joins in and Brenner then grudgingly adds: “Sure, why not, I knew”.

Kelso smiles grimly. “So, what you’re saying is that – in fact – all the staff were well aware of Doctor Dorian being omega, made sure that appropriate protocols were in place and any duty of care issues were avoided?”

He pauses. “Well, it's a good thing that I knew too.” He lifts his eyebrows at me and then stalks off, muttering “someone quickly make him a new goddamn ID badge with the correct gender on it”.

\- - - - -

I awake sharply, in a sudden panic. Something’s wrong, something’s missing, something’s supposed to be here and _isn’t_ and-

“Relax, he’s just gone downstairs.”

I glance over at Alex and blink, trying to clear my head. “What?”

“Your moody alpha, he’s just downstairs. Growling at people.”

I yawn. “That sounds like him.”

I keep anxiously glancing at the door and see Alex smile out the corner of my eye. “So, you really are bonded.”

“What do you mean?”

“You want him here, right? You’re worried he’s not here.”

I roll my eyes and then look back at him. “It’s just stupid biology.”

“Hey, don’t diss biology. As a doctor you shouldn’t and you definitely shouldn’t to a horticulturist.”

“I thought you were a vintner?”

“Don’t start pretending that you knew a mole wasn’t a rodent.” I grin slightly, distracted as I stare at the door. I’m like a dog desperately waiting for his master to come back, I point out to myself, annoyed. I’m still berating myself as Alex adds: “Why are you so intent to keep blaming love on biology?”

“Because is love really love when you’ve not had a choice?” I respond, without thinking. Then flinch.

Because, of course, I’ve not even let myself think that, apart from that time on the roof when I said it almost against my own will and could tell myself that it was because it was the only way to save him. I’ve been telling myself it’s all lust and… practicality and… and, God, an unorthodox treatment when there’s not even anything wrong with me. Desperate to avoid admitting to myself the basic fact that I love him.

“Nobody chooses who they fall in love with. Even when it’s inconvenient and… painful. That’s why it’s love.”

I look back at Alex, unable to read the expression on his face. Then I sigh. “True. How’s Iolite?”

“She is apparently riding out her heat – probably quite literally – with a surgeon wearing a bandana who apparently romanced her with a terrible double entendre.”

Oh my God. I stare at him. “She’s with _the Todd_?”

“Uh. I guess?”

“And she comments on _my_ taste?”

“She’s doing the equivalent of having a McDonalds after a drunken night out. Really feels like she needs it at the time and will feel guilty and a bit dissatisfied afterwards. But you’ve basically married Ronald McDonald, so yeah, I think she can still comment.”

“Hey. I’m a damn Big Mac and he knows it. Scram, Chicken Nugget.”

Doctor Cox has reappeared at the door, Turk trailing behind him. Alex glances at them and rolls his eyes, standing up from his seat. “Keep in touch, yeah? Don’t let Two-Beef-Patties there take you for granted.”

Doctor Cox rolls his eyes right back at him, then looks at me exhaustedly as Alex slopes out. I stare back at him.

“Big Mac?”

“Yeah Newbie, Big Mac. I’m from Pittsburgh and I’m impressive and difficult to stomach sometimes. Don’t make me start talking about special sauce either.”

I lift my eyebrows. “Barf.”

“My sentiments exactly, dude,” Turk interjects. “As I’m apparently your ride back then please don’t let him say anything else like that in my presence.”

“Ride back?”

“Yeah, since both of you can barely stand upright I have been instructed by Carla to take you back to the apartment.”

“The apartment?” I frown. “Don’t you need to drop Doctor Cox off at his place firs-“

“Newbie, we just bonded, you moron. We can hardly sleep in separate accommodation right now without both of us getting anxious and your Mommy thinks it’d be better if we were around other people in case we crash out.” He pauses, the exhausted expression on his face intensifying. “She may be right…”

There’s some awkwardness as I try to get out of bed, nearly collapse and get caught by Doctor Cox, who in turn nearly collapses. Turk sighs.

“Why did you send away Chicken Nugget? He could have helped.”

Doctor Cox, apparently now too tired to even bother hiding it, snarls at the thought. Then, with a final burst of energy, manages to drag me along with him to the car, shove me into the passenger seat and then collapse into the back and apparently immediately fall asleep. Turk glances back at him.

“Is that normal?”

“I dunno. You’re a bonded alpha, did you do that?”

“Dude, I can still barely compute that you’re an omega, I really don’t think I’m ready to think of you and _him_ as bonded.”

Oh. I give him a worried look. “Are you pissed?”

“What? Oh. No, man, don’t sound like that. It’s just a shock. Like, a _real_ big shock. It’ll take some time, but you know I don’t get pissed at you.”

“Yes you do.”

“No I don’t, man.”

“Yeah, you do. You get pissed when I don’t cook, when I eat all the food, when I ignore your romantic advice, when I tell Carla that you’ve been at the bar when you say you’re working, when-“

“If you two are _quite_ finished having a marital wouldja mind starting to _drive_ , Gandhi? I would appreciate going and expiring somewhere quite soon.”

I glance at Turk and then grin. “You’ve got an expired Big Mac in the back of your car.”

“God’s sake Newbie, _shut up_.”

“Dude, stop it, you’re making me think about the special sauce again…”

\- - - - -

Getting Doctor Cox into the apartment is surprisingly easy. Apparently his exhausted alpha lizard brain informs him that I’m moving and he just follows me, zombie-like, behind us, Turk occasionally giving him a freaked out glance as he shambles around.

“Seriously, is that normal?”

I yawn, feeling about as exhausted as zombie-Perry and pick my cell up when we get into the apartment to discover about six billion missed calls and messages on it. “Like I said, I dunno. I’m gonna go to bed.”

Turk gives me another scared look. “You remember I’m in the apartment, yeah?”

I look at him blankly. “Yeah. I can see you here.”

“And… you’ll _keep_ remembering that, yeah?”

I continue to stare blankly. “Uh. Yeah?”

“Good _God_ , Newbie, what do you think he’s trying to say? Chill Gandhi, I know I’m impressive but even I have limits and apparently I’ve reached them.”

He staggers through to my bedroom and from the noise, throws himself onto the bed. I glance through at him then trail after him, Turk hissing after me “remember I’m here”.

I struggle out of my clothes, staring at Doctor Cox sprawled on the bed and then sigh and pull his shoes off. He groans at me, rolling over and glancing at me, eyes roaming over me, naked in the half-light.

“So, I might be able to get up the energy to-“

“Oh, shut up. You can’t even hold your head upright. And Turk will be mentally scarred forever.”

He grunts and sits up, shrugging out of his shirt and I help him drag his pants off, ignoring his muttered “I can do it myself, Newbie” whilst he lies around being useless. Something hard hits my leg as I pull the pants legs off of his feet and I reach into his pants pocket, expecting to find his cellphone or something. 

The glass pomegranate gleams in the half-light and I feel my throat close up slightly that he was carrying it around with him. To remind him of me or for comfort or... or whatever. I carefully put it on the dresser and look over at him sprawled in my bed, trying to ignore the feeling that's trying to overwhelm me, screaming at me to be acknowledged and celebrated. I crawl under the covers and huff tiredly to myself, hearing him do the same before he pulls me up against him. I press my face into the pillows and inhale.

“You slept here last night, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.”

His chin hooks over my shoulder and he kisses my cheek gently, his arms wrapping around me.

“Missed you, Newb.”

I look back at him, clearly fighting to keep his eyes open, gazing at me. I’m reminded of my earlier thought about him being an enormous dog and roll over and gently kiss him, feeling him give in to the exhaustion and collapse against the pillows, asleep.

“Missed you too, Perry.”

I kiss him again softly and stroke a hand down his cheek. Then tuck my head under his chin and whispering the confession I'd been choking down earlier of “I love you so much,” before closing my eyes and joining him in sleep.

\- - - - -

I grunt and force my eyes open. Good Lord, I feel like someone’s run over me with a truck and my neck is _throbbing_. Damn Newbie venom.

Aforesaid venomous little bastard is lying in my arms, face turned towards me as he sleeps, purring very gently, unconsciously cradling his damaged left hand against his chest. I look at him for a while, eyes wandering to the gauze at his neck and inhaling softly to smell his gentle pomegranate-pine scent. He smells content. I smile, shuffling forwards to gently kiss his forehead. His purring increases in volume.

There’s a knock on the door. I frown and carefully move Newbie, sitting up in bed and trying to keep the cover over him.

“Yeah?”

Carla appears around the edge of the door, holding up a pitcher of water and two glasses. “I figured you guys would need this. You’ve been asleep for 24 hours, you realize?”

I shrug. Carla’s eyes are lingering on my bare torso and I smirk at her. “See something you like?”

“Yeah, that gauze on your neck. I hope Bambi bit you good.”

“You could say that. I could make a set of false teeth with the impressions he left.”

“Good.”

She puts the pitcher of water down on the side-table and then pauses. I realize slightly too late that I’ve become acclimatized to Newbie’s constant purring, but obviously Carla hasn’t.

“Oh my God, does he always do that?”

I glance at him and stroke a hand through his hair, eliciting an incredibly loud purr in response. “Pretty much.”

“Awwwwwww.”

She gazes at him a second longer and then grins. “I’m so going to torment him about that.”

“You don’t do that with Gandhi?”

She snorts. “No. Poor Bambi, not only has he bonded to you, he makes embarrassing noises about it.”

“Yeah yeah, poor JD. What about poor me? I have to sleep with this constant noise.”

“You mean the purring or is ‘constant noise’ your new nickname for JD?”

“Both work.”

“I thought omegas purring made alphas go all gooey anyway. Not exactly a hardship for you.”

I pour some water into both glasses and drink some, suddenly noticing how thirsty I am. I prod Newbie absently to try and wake him up, with no real effect. I glance over at Carla, who’s still hanging around.

“Alright, alright, thanks for the water. Go away.”

“Well, sorryyyy. Do we need to go out? Are you two planning on consummating your bonding imminently?”

I roll my eyes. “Not into somnaphilia, Carla.”

She rolls her eyes right back and walks out. I prod Newbie slightly more aggressively and he groans softly.

“Wake up, Newb.”

His eyelids flutter open and he groans again, lifting his hand to his neck and wincing.

“Yeah, I know Newbie. At least I held back, have you seen the state of my neck, you little bastard?”

He looks at me sadly. “Sorry.”

“Oh, stop it, I was joking. Drink something.”

I proffer the water to him and he painstakingly drags himself upright into a sitting position with one hand and drinks the water.

“Carla heard you purring,” I tell him, conversationally. He chokes on the water and I sigh. “Jesus, Newbie.”

“What? That’s embarrassing!”

“Well, don’t do it then.”

“I can’t not do it, you know that. God. That’s as bad as her hearing me orgasm.”

“Not really, but I’ll take your word for it.” I grin at him. “Speaking of…”

He gives me a tired look. “What?”

“Well, Carla did just remind me that we haven’t consummated our bonding.”

“Oh no. How will we cope?” He deadpans back. I frown at him.

“What? Bonded sex is supposed to be mind-blowing Newb, I do apologize for being interested in the possibilities.”

“Yeah,” he hedges, frowning back at me. “Only maybe I don’t hugely want to have sex currently when I’ve had a pretty stressful 48 hours, smell of God knows what and need to brush my teeth. I mean, who knows how long we’ve been asleep-“

“24 hours.”

“Well, that’d explain how much I need to pee right now then…”

I sigh and lie down next to him again. “Fair enough.” I try to pull him back into a hug, resulting in his whimpering “noooo, need to pee, stoppit” until I grudgingly let him escape to the bathroom.

He’s gone a suspiciously long time and eventually returns smelling of toothpaste and his girly pomegranate shower products, snuggling back up against me. I grunt at him. “Oh, are you all prepped now, Princess?”

“Yeah.”

He’s actually reminded me of my own bodily requirements now and I shove him off, hearing him mutter a complaint to himself as I go to the bathroom. There’s still no door on the damn thing, so I rather pointedly walk around naked in there to make Gandhi uncomfortable. On my way back out I cheerfully yell to Carla that they might want to take a stroll around the block and hear Gandhi start going “oh my God, baby, why are we being told about this? I don’t wanna think about this”. I smirk to myself and go back into the bedroom. Newbie’s playing around on his iPad, one handed. He glances over at me.

“Look, see, I did write you.”

I take the iPad he’s passed me and read his Sasha message. “Oh. Yeah. Sorry Newbie. Didn’t think to look there.”

I lie down on the bed next to him and he crawls up on top of me, nuzzling against my neck. “Hey.”

“Hey,” I kiss the top of his head. He looks up and grins at me, before kissing me softly. I kiss him back, tangling my hands in his hair to pull him closer, pressing my tongue against his full lips until he allows me entry with a soft sigh. He twines his tongue with mine and licks at my canines carefully. I smile into the kiss and roll us over, pinning him to the bed and claiming his mouth more aggressively. He slides a leg along mine, hooking it over my waist and thrusting up against me, pressing his erection against mine. I break the kiss to grin at him.

“Having fond memories of the last time we did this?”

He grins back. “You betcha.”

I want to just take him now, make him scream for more, but there’s another pull to be gentle, to be slow and careful and loving and not just because of the gauze bandaging on his hand and neck, standing out white against his pale skin. In a way I guess it’s a new start and, not that I really have any regrets around the other times, it feels important to make this special somehow.

So I feather kisses over his face, making him laugh softly as I do so, moving down to continue the same action on his neck, carefully avoiding the bite, then down across his clavicle, kissing and scenting him as I go. He groans and arches his back as I kiss and lick across his nipples and then down his stomach before turning my attention to his turgid cock. He lets out a definite moan when I kiss along the heated flesh, before gasping as I take him into my mouth.

Fuck, if I thought he tasted good before then it’s nothing on this. The slight cloying pomegranate sweetness is now balanced out with the sharper, wooded pine flavor and, my God, I could just do this until he climaxes. But not this time, this time I want it to be together, to be mutual.

This time when I lift his legs up to start lapping at the slick drooling out of him he doesn’t protest, just starts to giggle. A silly, happy, utterly Newbie sort of noise that makes me smile as I circle my tongue into him, feeling the muscles relax and quiver as I get him ready. He releases more slick in response and yeah, even that tastes better now. I start to jerk him off and thrust my tongue into him, making him cry out softly. Then his good hand’s in my hair and he’s whimpering “Perry, Perry, stop…”

I pull back, panting air back into my lungs. “What’s up?”

“I don’t want to finish that soon.” He’s heavily flushed, pupils dilated and gasping air.

“I hadn’t realized you were that close.” I frown. “I can usually smell it.”

He points at the bandage on his neck. “I think this is masking it. I can’t smell you either.”

He looks despondent about that. I move back up and kiss him, half expecting him to refuse considering what I’ve just been doing, but he quite happily thrusts his tongue into my mouth, tasting himself there and purring softly. He breaks the kiss and stares in my eyes.

“Can we take them off? We can rebandage them later… I just want to be able to smell you properly.”

“Sure. They probably need changing anyway.” I carefully unbandage his neck, noticing the slight smear of blood on the bandaging but otherwise it’s looking good. The bite has scabbed over, still vivid and raw-looking, but better. He’s fumbling one-handed at my neck and I figure out exactly when he sees the bite, because he hisses and freezes.

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry.” He sounds genuinely distraught.

“It’s alright Newbie.”

He’s still staring at it. “Maybe Brenner’s right, maybe I am feral, _Jesus_ , it looks like I was trying to kill you, not bond with you.”

I catch his face in my hands and kiss him again. “It’s _fine_ , Newbie. I was already biting you, you weren’t exactly in the best state of mind at the time. I did ask you to do it. I kinda like it, if I’m honest.”

He stares at me. “ _Why?_ Do you like looking like your bond partner tried to eat your jugular?”

“Well, it certainly adds to my air of general badassery, wouldn’t you say?”

Newbie doesn’t look convinced and I kiss him again and then matter of factly shove his face against my neck.

“Do I smell upset?”

“Nooo…”

“So there you go. Stop worrying about it.”

The hiatus in activity has done nothing to reduce how turned on I am, although seeing the state of my neck does seem to have cooled Newbie off from nearly coming a minute ago. I kiss him again, tangling my tongue with his, snarling slightly into his mouth. He mewls at me in response, pulling me down against him hard with his good hand.

I want to take him like I did the first time, want to recreate that. God, what is he turning me into, some nostalgic romantic idiot? Probably. Anyway, I want to fuck him like that.

_Make love to him like that_.

Yeah, whatever.

I move behind him on the bed and then pull him spooned against my stomach, kicking the bed sheet off us as I carefully, gently (lovingly) arrange him into position. He smiles back at me softly when he realizes what I’m doing and leans his head back against my shoulder, gazing up at me. The pheromones he’s releasing are thick, heady mating signals, encouraging but somehow making me feel lazy and almost fuggy. He gets it too, he wants to go slow, make it last, make it _special_. And he’s smelling like… like _that_ again. Like love.

I answer with the same and watch his eyelids flicker and his spine bow in response, his cock flushed and heavy against his stomach. As I line him up with my cock I can feel how wet he is and groan, turning his head to soundly kiss him as I slide into him in one abrupt movement, swallowing the gasp he makes into my mouth. Fuck, the feel of him, liquid satin and heat. I’ve hitched his leg up by his knee, holding him in place and open for me. He breaks the kiss to whisper against my lips:

“Oh God, you feel so good.”

“You too, sweetheart. _Jesus_ , you too.”

I slowly roll my hips against him, pushing deep into him, staring into his eyes as I make love to him. And he stares back, all enormous dilated pupils, glowing eyes and little gasps as I move inside him, rolling his hips back against me in perfect time. It’s not a fucking sort of movement, more of a constant roil of our bodies moving in perfect synchronicity, slowly inching us both closer and closer. It’s intimate, it’s deeply arousing, it’s _perfect_ , we never break gazing into the other’s eyes. I can see and smell everything he’s feeling, see how much he’s enjoying it and I know he can feel the same thing. I’ve got one hand holding his leg up and the other gently supporting his jaw in the slightly twisted angle it’s ended in so I can see his face. He’s leaning his elbows against the bed to try to keep purchase as he moves against me.

We could have gone for hours and it still wouldn’t have been enough. I don’t want it to end, ever, I want to be like this all the damn time, but eventually I can feel myself getting close. I’m releasing pheromones warning Newbie of this, but tell him anyway:

“Not going to last much longer,” I whisper to him, kissing him softly. “You close?”

I can smell he is, but want to check. He nods, panting against my lips.

“Come on, Newbie. Come for me.”

He makes a little choked noise and I feel him spasm hard against me, getting ready to clamp around me and draw me up inside him.

“I love you so much, JD.”

He cries out sharply, replies with a garbled “love you, Perry,” and then – ah fuck – I’m getting pulled hard into him as he shudders and locks around me, his muscles tightening and relaxing rhythmically around me and he comes hard all over himself. I groan and am orgasming harder than I ever have in my life, giving in to the sensation, giving everything over to him. To Newbie. To JD. To my omega.

\- - - - -

We stay locked together for hours, repeatedly making love until neither of us can move any more. It should be painful and weird, being essentially constantly skewered on – quite frankly – a ridiculously enormous alpha cock. But this transcends all that shit. It’s just him and me, expressing what we feel for one another and it’s _perfect_. He’s perfect. We’re tangled together, kissing gently and still trapped.

“How long’ve we been going?” He murmurs against my ear.

“Dunno… hours?”

“Want to go again?”

“I think my legs’ll fall off.”

He laughs softly and I shiver at the sound of it, purring in response. He grins at me. “Your mouth says no but your purr says yes.”

“Treacherous purr,” I grin back, reaching up to pull him back down to kiss him hard.

At this point we hear the front door open and Turk make a loud, horrified noise. I glance at Doctor Cox, who’s smirking. Apparently we’ve expressed how much we feel so much it’s permeated into the rest of the apartment.

“Dude! What have you two been doing?”

“Oh my God, don’t come in here!” I yell back, desperately trying to reach for the bed sheet and then getting seized by Doctor Cox when the movement is in danger of damaging his cock beyond repair.

“I don’t _want_ to come in there, man! Who would?”

“At least they haven’t boned each other to death. Or JD is still alive, anyway.” Carla points out.

“Good God, go to a motel. I’ll give you the cash, just get lost.” Doctor Cox growls.

We hear them exiting, Turk softly whining to Carla that he’s traumatized and needs to replace the sex smell with a much nicer sex smell and can they please go to that posh place on 6th that serves brinner.

Actually, I could do with brinner. I’m starving.

As the door slams Doctor Cox kisses me and murmurs “So… where were we?”

I give him a hopeful look and he frowns. “What?”

“I’m hungry.”

“Oh God.”

“Make me brinner?”

“What the hell’s brinner?”

Oh, I have so much to teach him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jupita extremely correctly called out earlier that Kelso's son could be an omega which was maybe why Kelso was slightly kinder to Iolite than we'd normally expect him to be and knew about omega marches. Which I had to carefully not address in a reply. Damn Jupita's perception on picking up on the clueses.
> 
> An early idea I had for this fic was that Kelso himself could be an omega doing exactly what JD was doing. However, this couldn't withstand the universe's rules - JD would have been able to tell Kelso was on inhibitors and vice versa. Then I remembered Kelso's slightly unbelievable home life and his son and how we never see Harrison or Enid and that maybe there's a reason for that which isn't what he claimed. Enid's a recessive alpha and Harrison's parental bond (to note, recessive alpha females can get pregnant, just have lower fertility - see chapter 1!).
> 
> And yes, Iolite was backing down when JD told her to, but she's actually more frightened of omega registration people than JD is, hence her deciding to do it in desperation when Brenner starts to call them to stop him.
> 
> And yeah, JD proposed on the roof again. I like writing that. Also, JD FINALLY ADMITS HE LOVES PERRY, OH THANK GOD, IT TOOK HIM LONG ENOUGH.
> 
> And Brenner is sort of demonstrating that he's not actually a total dick in this chapter, just a bit of a misogynist. I'm not actually sure he would have gone through with reporting Iolite and JD, he's mainly in shock in the earlier part of the chapter.
> 
> Also, Doctor Cox = Big Mac. He's actually quoting JD with the "special sauce" thing (a lovely romantic comment from JD after mating at one point), much to Turk's horror.
> 
> And Alex should not have been nicknamed Chicken Nugget as "Nugget and Newbie" as a couple name only increases my weird shipping of the two of them.


	22. 22. My Best Decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is rather long, I do apologise. It's nearly 50% longer than a usual chapter. But there was quite a lot to cover and... well, I really enjoyed myself writing it. I hope you guys enjoy reading it too.
> 
> Warning for some super fluffy fluff.

**My Unorthodox Treatment**

**by RumCove**

**My Best Decision**

Disclaimer: Scrubs original characters belong to Bill Lawrence and NBC/ABC/Doozer Productions etc. Basically, not owned by me. I own the original characters in this work.

_I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to do_.

I glance over at Doctor Cox, who’s sat on the couch next to me and drinking coffee. He lifts his eyebrows.

“Don’t look at me, Newb, it’s your decision.”

“Can’t you be all angry controlling alpha and tell me what to do?”

He snorts. “Yes, because this whole thing has demonstrated how very willing you are to listen to me.”

I stare back at the coffee table and the inhibitors scattered all over it. I pick up one of the newer capsules of pills and rotate it anxiously in my right hand, reading and re-reading the label. Carla sits down on the coffee table, her hands wrapped around her cup of decaf.

“They all know, Bambi. Why would you take those again?”

“To look less weird?” Turk joins in. “I think you should take them, dude, no reason to draw attention.”

Doctor Cox growls next to me and I roll my eyes at him. “Stop that.”

“You _don’t_ look weird.”

“Well, I kinda do, particularly to people who aren’t used to me like this. Maybe… maybe that’d be better? Help people acclimatize.”

“If anyone has an issue with you then that’s their problem not-“

He’s interrupted by Carla’s and my hollow laughter. She snorts at him. “Seriously, Perry? Where’ve you been living for the past few decades? If people have problems with omegas then it’s always the omega’s problem.”

“Oh, good, more social justice. Just what I want at ten in the morning.”

“Well, we didn’t particularly want to be driven out of our own home by an alpha intent on having ridiculously pheromonal sex with our housemate, did we baby?”

“Oh, stop whining, you ate your body weight in brinner.”

People need to stop talking about sex and brinner or I’ll want some again. I frown, ignoring them and trying to make some sort of informed decision. Carla apparently notices and takes my hands gently, carefully supporting my bandaged hand.

“What do _you_ want, JD?”

I blink at her, confused. She looks back at me steadily.

“Not what you’re worried about other people will want or react or think. Or how it’ll impact anyone or acclimatize anyone or anything like that. What do _you_ want to do?”

“Well…” I shrug. “I mean, obviously what I want is to not have to keep taking them. But that’s not the issue h-“

Carla’s already gathering all the inhibitors up. I yelp and grab the closest capsule of pills protectively. “But it’s not that simple, Carla, what about just going outside and getting stuff done? And work? And how I make people feel and-“

“Yeah, Bambi, I know it’ll be harder if you’re not on these, but… but it won’t be as bad. You’re bonded now, remember, people won’t be quite so… full on.”

“They’ll still stare. They’ll still not let me in places on my own, still treat me like… like I’m…”

I’ve apparently been releasing too many distressed pheromones, as I’m suddenly hit in the face by a load of alpha and omega comforting ones that make my head reel. I nearly drop the pills in response and Doctor Cox sighs slightly.

“Alright, try not to completely knock him out. He is slightly more useful conscious, however much I want to refute that.”

“You did it too, man.”

“Yeah, whatever Gandhi.”

He wraps an arm around me and I collapse against his shoulder, head still spinning. “You don’t need to make a decision right now, Newbie. And even if you come off them or stay on them, that doesn’t need to be permanent.”

“Yeah, JD. I use them sometimes for nights out or when my heat’s coming and I want to delay it. It doesn’t mean you _never_ take them, it’s just… not always being on them.”

“Like I said, Newbie…” Doctor Cox stops hugging me, apparently being reminded that there’s other people around and getting all Coxish about that. I regretfully move away from him and he looks at me levelly. “You don’t need to make any decision right now.”

I glance down at the pills still clutched in my hand and then back at him. “Yeah, but I _want_ to.”

I stare at them again, one-handedly rotating the glass container gently to listen to them shift and clatter against one another. Once I thought of these as my only escape, as a reprieve, as my only way to have a future. On one hand, they still are. But on the other, they represent hiding, denying myself, cowardice. Of course if society is going to treat you like shit then it just makes sense to try and change how society sees you, right? To blend in?

But isn’t it better to change how society sees you by being visible and showing that actually they’re totally wrong about you? To prove them completely incorrect and highlight how ridiculous and plain unethical it was that they thought that in the beginning?

Or is it better to be safe? Be sensible? Not make waves? As I said to Iolite, it’s fine to make a stand if you’re in the privileged position of it _not_ hurting you. It’s one thing to be safe on some wine plantation, have an expensive education and vlog all about injustice, it’s totally different to be out there in the world and constantly in danger of that injustice coming to bite you. Quite literally, in the case of omegas.

I guess either way works, there’s no right answer. Not for 'people in general'. But there _is_ a right answer for me.

I put the pills down firmly on the coffee table. No more. No more of this shit.

\- - - - -

Bob is glancing between the two of us, apparently not sure how he’s supposed to deal with us. I don’t know why he’s in any sort of quandary about this; I look pissed off and Newbie looks like he isn’t paying attention. It’s pretty standard.

“So, I’m assuming that you’re both aware that your suspensions have been lifted? I managed to convince the board that the majority of the staff were aware of Doctor Dorian’s true status and ensuring that he was not being… exposed to anything inappropriate.”

Newbie snorts slightly whilst I lift my eyebrows. Yes, I am aware of this. Jordan called me and harpied down my cell at me for a _truly_ horrifying amount of time. She then asked if she could have a go with Newbie and I told her to shut up, following by her cackling and telling me to enjoy my bond and how hilarious it was I beholden to Sally now.

I hate Jordan.

“Doctor Dorian, you inexplicably left your staff ID here at your last shift, please immediately put it on and set fire to what you’re currently wearing.”

Newbie frowns slightly at the new ID he’s picked up from Kelso’s desk, staring at the “ΩΩ” under his name, an odd expression on his face. Then he quickly swaps it over with his beta ID and tries to stuff the old ID into his pocket with his good hand. I take it from him and shove it into my jacket pocket. Newbie looks back at Kelso.

“Uh, thanks, Doctor Kelso, it’s really-“

“And, Sport, in return I don’t expect to see any candid camera footage of anything that may have happened here over the last few days cropping up on the Internet, alright? In fact, my being able to keep you here rather relies on that. Keeping all three of us here, in fact.”

Newbie blinks. “So… they didn’t agree with your initial scheme?”

Kelso sighs. “No, they did not. As it turns out, your and Miss FitzAlan’s little plan was necessary, no matter how distasteful.”

“It wasn’t _my_ plan, Sir, I tried to stop her-“

“Yes, I did see that. Stop twittering excuses at me.”

He stops twittering. Kelso glances between us. “I’m presuming you both need some time off to acclimatize to your new… situation?”

“May be necessary, Bobbo. And we probably need to be on the same shift pattern for a while when we are back.”

Newbie rolls his eyes. “Great, so I get no respite?”

“Shut up, Sandra, you know you’re delighted to _finally_ have my undivided attention.”

Kelso smirks at Newbie. “You did sign up for this, Sport.” JD makes a long-suffering expression in response before piping up:

“I would like to take a few days’ vacation, Sir.”

“You don’t need to take vacation, son, you’re on medical leave. For your hand and this… hormonal imbalance.”

He gestures towards me and I narrow my eyes at him.

“And talking of hormonal imbalances, Sir…” Newbie flinches, then continues: “I… I don’t really know how I’m supposed to deal with things like heats and… do I save my vacation up or…?”

Kelso sighs. “Doctor Dorian, stop worrying. You’re perfectly entitled to take medical leave for heats.”

“But I never declared-“

“But you’re declaring now. And it’s not a problem, you and Perry hardly take your allocated vacation as it is. It won’t cause a problem, the omega nurses do it already, they’ve set the precedent.”

“Yeah, but they don’t heat as often or need their alpha there as much as-“

“Stop trying to make issues where there are none, Sport.”

He’s lost control of his pheromones again, little idiot. I can smell the distress and anxiety already and frown at him. “Newbie, what’s wrong?”

He gives me a miserable look. “I don’t even know when the next one will _be_ , is it three months from the last heat or three months since I’ve been on inhibitors or-?”

I roll my eyes and glance back at Bob. “Ignore him, Robber Baron. He’s just made the decision to come off the inhibitors for good and is apparently having a crisis about it.”

To my surprise Bob leans forward and gently places a hand on Newbie’s shoulder, who twitches and looks up at him. Bob has put on his 'kindly old man' expression, which Newbie should immediately understand means that he’s about to unleash the Satanic side of himself. JD is, however, still apparently being controlled by his pheromones and mistakes Bob for a benevolent superior, relaxing slightly at the touch.

“Son, grow a pair, alright? Calm down, you’ll be fine.”

Bob has apparently restrained the full force of Lucifer, just mildly terrifying Newbie into nodding sharply. He then dismisses us both, telling us he expects us back in a fortnight and that he’ll email the shift rota to us both when it’s finalized. We both wander out, slightly shell-shocked and down to the car lot, getting into the Porsche and then continuing to sit in mildly baffled surprise.

“That went surprisingly well.” I point out to Newbie. He nods and I frown at him. “Focus, Denise.”

“I need to go somewhere, that's reminded me about something.”

My frown deepens. “Look, we need to figure some stuff out, Newbie, I’m not staying in your depressing apartment for another night and-“

“I don’t want to go to the apartment. I need to see someone, I’ll be gone for a few days-“

I grab him by the shoulder and he jumps. “What the hell, Newbie? Are you running out on me?”

“What? No, of course not, I just-“

“You’re not getting out of my goddamn sight for the immediate future, you hear me? Not just because of the bonding, you little bastard. You vanished and I still haven’t 100% forgiven you for pulling that shit.”

“I told you what happened, I didn’t mean to make you think that and I tried to contact you.”

“You could have waited at the goddamn car, Newbie, I came looking for you, you could have just _waited_ and we’d have been fine.”

“No we wouldn’t! You heard Kelso, if Iolite hadn’t pulled that stunt then I’d be without any career and you’d still be suspended.”

I glower at him. “Still, you could have-“

He gives me a tired look. “Please, let’s not argue about this. _Please_? Do you regret what happened?”

I glower at him harder. “No.”

“No, me neither. But I do need to see someone. I… I owe a friend a favor.”

I lift my eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“Iolite.”

“What about her? She was getting it on with that moron Gandhi hangs around with last either of us saw her.”

“Yeah. And I’ve remembered something she told me a while ago.” He blinks his luminous eyes at me, intentionally trying to manipulate me. I reluctantly allow myself to be manipulated.

“Alright, Newbie, what is it that you remember that’s pulling on your heart strings so badly?”

“How long ago did Amber die?”

I frown, confused. “I guess around… what two and a half months ago?” Like that date isn’t firmly embedded in my mind, although not due to Amber FitzAlan. Not directly, anyway.

“Yeah. This is Iolite’s first heat without Amber, she’ll be in post-heat now. All on her own, without any other omegas if they're still keeping her separate from her Mom. She was upset enough to be alone when she wasn’t completely vulnerable.”

I sigh. “And so what? You’ve had your heats alone, why are you-“

“Just because I’ve gone through that doesn’t mean she should! She’ll be scared and miserable and… and I don’t _want_ that when I can help. Yeah, she’s been lucky that she’s not had to suffer much her entire life and yeah, I could resent her for that, but I don’t. Just because I went through shit doesn’t mean I want everyone who’s been luckier than me to go through the same thing. I want the opposite, I want to stop anyone having to go through that! And you heard what Kelso just said, if it weren’t for her insane scheme then we’d be royally screwed. So I’m _going_ to her, Perry.”

I glare at him. “If you didn’t notice, Newbie, we just goddamn _bonded_. _We_ need to be close to one another. What, you don’t care if your noble self-sacrifice impacts on you? Because it affects me too, Newbie, and I’m kinda getting sick of you being selfless and forgetting that it hurts me too.”

He blinks at me and I flinch at how honest I just was. Then he narrows his eyes at me. “We’ve been together for the last 48 hours solid. I’m sorry if me doing this bothers you, but you’re the one who keeps telling me to do what _I_ want. I want to do this, I wouldn’t be being me if I didn’t. I’m sorry if that annoys you, but I always annoy you.”

I glare at him. “Yeah, JD, you really do. Now give me that goddamn little idiot’s address so we can go there and you can be your ridiculous, selfless, moronic self.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

\- - - - -

I’ve left Doctor Cox and Alex having some sort of weird alpha-off in the vineyard and softly open the door to Kingfisher. I can smell the heat pheromones immediately, as well as a sad, lost scent that’s insidiously pervading the air. I sigh quietly and track Iolite down.

Iolite, it would appear, does not construct normal nests. I possibly should have expected this. She’s leant a load of furniture together and crawled into the tiny space within, curled up on hard wood. It’ll be digging into her ribs and can’t be comfortable. I crouch down at the entrance, looking at the curl of her back, no other part of her visible.

“Io?” I call to her gently. She twitches in response, but doesn’t move or say anything. I stare at her a moment longer, then sigh and retrieve various throws and cushions, building a much more practical nest next to the sofa, apparently able to do so triggered by the post-heat scent of her. I then move back to the assembled wooden nest she’s made.

“I’m guessing Amber used to make the nests, right? You just joined her?”

Iolite makes an odd noise, a dry, sad retch, accompanied by a wave of miserable pheromones. I react automatically, trying to get to her to comfort her. I manage to inch myself into the entrance of her stupid nest and then nearly get wedged and reverse back out.

“I can’t get to you in there, Io, I’ll get trapped. You need to come out.” At the lack of response I add coaxingly “I’ve made a nest. It’s squishy, not inexplicably made of solid, jabby furniture.”

“If you weren’t so stupidly massive you’d be able to fit in here.”

She sounds hoarse and exhausted and lost. I nod.

“Yeah, but as everyone keeps telling me, I’m a huge omega. I’m deciding to take it as a compliment. Come on, come out.”

“Don’t look at me.”

She reverses out of the nest, moving stiffly and painfully. When she emerges I see that she’s pale, her eyes bloodshot and shadowed, her hair unkempt and wilting over her face. She glances over at me and frowns.

“I said not to look at me.”

She’s clutching something in her hands, explaining why she’d so awkwardly maneuvered herself out of the nest. When I look at them she protectively pulls her hands to her chest for a moment, before glancing up at me, looking briefly open and young and innocent. She slightly opens her clasped hands to show it to me.

It’s a necklace. I immediately know it’s not her’s; it’s far too pretty, too girly, too _omega_. It’s a jeweled butterfly, iridescent and sparkling gently in the light, made of spun glass and twisted precious metals, delicate and spindly.

“It’s Amber’s,” she tells me what I've already guessed. “It was her favorite.”

She starts to sob, her face twisting and crumpling, releasing so many pained, unhappy pheromones it abruptly hurts for me to breathe. It’s absolutely ugly-crying, her breath hiccoughing and spasming out of her. I react automatically, grabbing her, pulling her against me and then dragging us both into the soft, welcoming embrace of the piled duvets and throws I’ve made. Iolite presses herself hard against me, her forehead against my solar plexus, her arms and legs wrapping around me and clinging in a textbook omegan gesture that’s so unlike her.

“ _I miss her_.”

“I know,” I tell her, stroking her back and releasing soothing pheromones. The weird thing is, it’s natural. I don’t need to try. It’s almost like medicine, actually; I know what’s wrong and I can just react and treat it.

Not that I think most diseases will respond well to snuggles and soothing omega pheromones, obviously. But this – this is unthinking. And I can _help_.

“Why did she go?”

Iolite’s sobbing has lessened considerably, but she still sounds lost, miserable. I release another wave of pheromones and feel her sprawl against me, pressing her face harder against my chest.

“She didn’t want to. You know she didn’t want to.”

When she next speaks she sounds choked and overwhelmed. "It was my fault."

"No it wasn't, Io."

"You don't understand."

I grasp her chin and lift her face to meet her eyes. Her sobbing has nearly stopped, but tears are constantly flowing out of her eyes. "It wasn't your fault."

"Yes it was," she whispers. "Amber was my guardian bond, I told you that, right?"

"Yeah."

"I... I broke, JD. A few years ago I stopped being able to regulate my pheromones properly. Amber was doing it for _both_ of us. That's why she went into heat at the wrong time, she should have had another couple weeks before. The stress of looking after me as well as her meant that happened and then she was attacked. If I just worked properly then she would still be alive."

I stroke her hair gently. "That's not your fault." I remember what she'd previously told me about it, suddenly understanding why she knew so much about it and why the FitzAlans kept her mother away from her when she started to have difficulty regulating her own pheromones from the shock of Amber dying.

She said it didn't just happen for no reason, right? That it took quite a lot to put an omega into such a state that they couldn't regulate themselves any more and even worse to remain like that? "What happened to you?"

"Nothing."

"Io..."

"Nothing. It doesn't matter. Just... just something scared me once. That's all."

I bite back the urge to ask her anything more, not wanting to upset her. "You're regulating them now."

"Not well. It's hard to keep them stable and once they start to go wrong it's really difficult to pull it back now Amber's not here to help. That's why Marco and Adam are around all the time I'm outside. And... it's weird, it essentially makes you super-dominant when this is a permanent state. So... my pheromones are too strong now, my venom's too much for any alpha to cope with, I can't ever bite anyone or I'll kill them. It's... it's the ultimate feral omega thing, JD. If those bastard registration people find me they'll put me in a bite mask and - and -"

She's still shaking, tears still running down her face. I tuck her head under my chin and start to constantly release pheromones, stroking her back. She collapses against me, all tension suddenly leaching out of her. She inhales deeply and then I’m surrounded by the scent of a rose garden as she responds to me, drugging herself.

“It’s alright. Everything’s alright,” I tell her quietly as she passes out against me, still clutching the butterfly necklace against her chest as she does so. We stay tangled together for some time.

\- - - - -

“If you tell _anyone_ about this then I’ll eviscerate you.”

I jerk awake, thinking Perry’s just issued one of his ultimatums. Instead of a furious mop of curly hair and glaring blue-gray eyes, I’m surprised by the spiny reddish hair and the narrowed glowing green eyes. She’s looking a lot better.

“Huh?”

“I didn’t _cry_.”

I blink and try “huh?” again.

Iolite sits up from the nest and very carefully puts the butterfly necklace onto the coffee table that had been forming the base of her furniture nest. I watch her as she does so and she glances back at me, looking embarrassed.

“And… and I can make nests, obviously.”

I look over at the piled furniture. “That doesn’t look comfortable.”

She somehow looks even more embarrassed at this. “Just… okay, you’re right, Amber made the nests. Or the innards. I always made the outer bit. Then we’d just… sort of squish ourselves into it.”

I stare at her a moment longer and then pull her back up against me. She sighs slightly and entwines herself back with me.

“Why’re you here anyway?”

“You looked after me when I needed you. I was just returning the favor.”

“Wait wait wait,” she pulls back, staring at me. “You guys did bond, right? I didn’t just go into heat and wreck myself for nothing, yeah?”

I point at the pretty visible bite mark on my neck. “Yeah.”

She snuffles. “Oh, yeah, you smell a bit pine-fresh now. It’s quite nice actually, balances out how cloyingly sweet you were before…” She shakes herself. “So you’re just bonded, why aren’t you with _him_?”

“Because you needed me more.”

She frowns. “Don’t you feel… I don’t know, anxious?”

I shrug. “I feel alright. I figure that I’ve felt anxious pretty much my entire life though, so I guess I don’t feel the effects as much as a bonded omega normally would. I’m used to it.”

She glances up at me, concerned. “That’s… that’s actually pretty sad, you know? That your life has been like that. Being separated from your alpha just after bonding is supposed to be really difficult for omegas, particularly dominants. For that just to be… normal for you. That’s quite shit.”

I lift my eyebrows at her. “I did notice.”

“Sorry.”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry about. Incidentally, your crazy plan apparently worked. We’ve both been reinstated. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“On the condition that the video stays offline.”

She nods. “Yeah, sure. We should keep it though, in case… in case any less permissive management come into play.”

“Definitely. Just don’t get high and post it in a fit of pique or anything, alright?”

She looks somber. “This is a possibility. I’ll get you to put some sort of password lock on it so it needs you to agree to it as well.”

“Thank you.”

She grins at me suddenly. “Let me guess; your alpha’s even more like a super horny guard dog than he was before?”

I grin back. “Yep. Alphas are morons, right?”

“Your's is.”

“No argument there.”

She lies her head back against my shoulder and closes her eyes. I frown.

“You can’t talk.”

“What do you mean?”

“ _The Todd_ , Io.”

“Huh?”

“You know, who you decided to ‘relieve your heat’ with. Why on Earth did you choose him?”

“Oh, is that his name?”

I stare at her. “Seriously? You didn’t even know his name?”

“Stop trying to slut shame me, JD. Like I said, I screw who I want to. He was funny. And I thought he was quite hot. In a… sort of dumb way.”

“I don’t see it.”

“No, but I don’t see how you can find a really angry, rude, forceful dominant alpha attractive. And his name is ridiculous, you definitely shouldn’t take it if he asks you to.”

“Ew. Well, obviously. Partially because then I’d be JC, that’d be insane.”

“’The Todd’ is an awesome name. Being only known by one name is amazing. Like Madonna. Or Cher.”

“Alright, alright. I hope you enjoyed your McDonalds.”

“What?”

“Totally a Happy Meal. One with a disappointing toy, as well.”

“You’re really weird.”

\- - - - -

Iolite’s brother is in some sort of office, apparently reading off a spreadsheet, wearing glasses. I frown at him.

“What are you doing, Chicken Nugget?”

He rolls his eyes and looks back at me. “You’re making me seriously regret that analogy, you know?”

“It suits you.”

“Yes, I am entirely made of processed meat and chicken beaks.”

I shrug. I’m partially hoping I can get him to call me ‘Big Mac’ back. Chicken Nugget is actually annoyingly close to my level of dominant alpha, possibly even about equal. So, of course, I’m trying to belittle and one-up him.

It’s the pheromones, of course, but also my hobby.

“I’m calculating our yield, if you must know.”

“For a vineyard there’s a depressing lack of wine around here.”

“Go to the gift shop then.”

“No. How’s your sister?”

He glances up at me, apparently checking whether I’m being genuine. He then sighs. “She’s not great. I think it’s all hitting her pretty hard. It… it was very kind of JD to think to come to her. Most people would probably just assume she was fine.”

“Yes. Particularly since he’s just bonded and I don’t at all want to go and drag him out of there.”

He takes his glasses off and rolls his eyes again. “Yeah, I am just so impressed by your Herculean levels of self-control.”

“They’re not that great at the minute, that’s why I’m looking for a distraction.”

“Oh, is annoying me a distraction?”

“Yeah.”

He glares at me. “Yeah, well, I don’t want to be your distraction, alright? I don’t hugely want you in my territory, the only reason I’m not getting too pissy about it is that you smell a bit like JD now.”

I stare at him, then growl back accusingly: “You _like_ him.”

“Of course I like him. He’s very likeable.”

“Yeah, but not just like that. What, you want to kiss Newbie?”

I know I sound petty and jealous, but… well, I am. He lifts his eyebrows. “He’s also very kissable.”

“Shut up, Chicken Nugget. If you try _anything_ -“

“I’m not going to try anything, he inexplicably chose to bond with you. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to be around him or keep him safe. And can you please _back off_ , I don’t hugely like other alphas, alright?”

“No alphas like other alphas.”

“Yeah, well I really dislike them. I spent most of my formative years with omegas and with my brother occasionally telling me I was an embarrassment. And then Io telling him he was a bastard. And then him locking Io in the basement and telling her he’d make sure she got bonded to an absolute asshole who’d treat her like shit.”

Oh. So maybe Knuckles the Echidna didn’t quite have the idealized upbringing I had assumed. Alex is watching my expression and continues; “Yeah, didn’t quite expect that, did you? One of the reasons I help her and sheepdog all of her strays. Nothing protects them or keeps them safe really, not money, not education, not anything. So I look after them because I want to, although Io claims it’s because I like staring at them like a creep.”

I blink at him and he shuffles awkwardly. “I mean, I kind of do that too…”

“Alright, Nugget. I get it. You’re just such a gosh-darn nice guy.”

“I kind of am, actually. I guess JD was never going to go for me because of that, he clearly likes bastards.”

I glare at him. "And you'd better remember it."

\- - - - -

Nugget eventually relents and gets some wine. I sit with him in companionable silence on the veranda of his office, drinking the wine and watching Newbie be an idiot.

“What… what is he doing?”

There’s a long drawn out “eaaaggglllleee”.

“Don’t ask.”

Newbie is, in fact, bounding around in the vines with Iolite piggybacking on him. They are alternating, sometimes with her clinging onto his shoulders as he extends his arms and makes the ridiculous noise and other times with him hanging onto her legs as she makes like an angel or those idiots out of Titanic, extending her arms and happily crowing. Omegas are morons.

At least he’s getting some exercise, I suppose.

Grudgingly, I guess it’s actually a good idea. She’s getting the physical contact she needs and he’s gotten her outside and away from stewing in her own grief. Why he felt the need to do it like _this_ I have no idea.

Apparently getting tired of their stupid game, Newbie starts to walk over to us, Iolite still attached to his back. Nugget pours them both glasses of wine, but Iolite suddenly balks, staring at me. Newbie pauses.

“What?”

She narrows her eyes at me. “He stinks.”

“Yeah… you’re in post heat now though, that shouldn’t bother you too much, right?”

She continues to stare at me, then crouches down slightly, glowering at me over Newbie’s shoulder before pressing her nose against his scent gland and wrapping her arms around him tighter.

“Mine.”

Apparently all the FitzAlans want to screw Newbie. Excellent.

“I hate to break it to you, Alice in Chains, but nahwt your’s.”

“Io, stop being weird.” Nugget instructs her.

“Can’t help it.”

Newbie, apparently uncomfortable at being claimed repeatedly, starts walking back over to the table to join us and then tries to get Iolite to dismount. She stubbornly clings onto him.

“Stoppit. This is clearly why you’re such a stupidly massive omega, it’s your purpose in life.”

“I’m not a horse, Io. Get off and sit on the chair like a human. Or a passable imitation of one.”

She reluctantly does so, but grabs his uninjured hand as soon as she separates from him. He sighs. “I can’t drink the wine now.”

Unable to stop myself, I put a hand on his leg. He looks utterly exasperated by everyone apparently needing to touch him.

“How’d your bonding go?” Iolite asks.

“It hurt,” Newbie mutters. She frowns at him.

“Well, obviously. You get a massive great pair of fangs going into you.” She looks at my neck. “But it was reciprocal. That’s… nice.”

“I know I made a mess of it,” he mutters. I roll my eyes.

“Like I said, Newbie, I don’t care. I kinda like it.”

Nugget eyes my neck with misgiving and possibly some relief that Newbie didn’t appear to want to bond with him.

“Can… can you stay here tonight? Please? In one of the cabins?”

I’m about to snap at Iolite, but then see her tentative expression and stop myself. “Both of you,” she quickly clarifies, possibly misreading me. “I know you need to be together, but…”

To my complete surprise, Newbie glances at me quickly in askance. I sigh. “Sure. If Nugget here keeps the wine coming.”

Nugget glares at me.

\- - - - -

Iolite becomes increasingly exhausted through the evening, eventually starting to slump asleep against me. I get her to crawl onto my back again and piggyback her to the nest I made in Kingfisher and sit with a hand on her shoulder and releasing pheromones until she falls into a peaceful sleep. I then go back outside to discover Alex has apparently gone into the office because he’s had a Doctor Cox overdose and can’t deal with him any more. He’s sat in the twilight of the veranda, drinking the wine and staring out over the gently swaying vines.

“What did you do to Alex?”

He shrugs. “I think I called him Nugget once too often. It suits him though, right?”

I lift my eyebrows. “Not really. You’re only doing it because you want him to call you Big Mac.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Newbie. Come here.”

I walk over to him and he pulls me down into his lap and nuzzles my throat gently. I rest my cheek against his curls and look out over the vineyard.

“This is kinda like a honeymoon.”

“We’re not married, Newbie.”

“Well… like a bondmoon?”

He makes a revolted noise and I frown at him. “What?”

“Or we’re just sat in a vineyard with your weird friends.”

“At least I _have_ friends.”

“Fair enough. They’ve vacated anyway, presumably to leave us to ‘bondmoon’ sex.”

“See, I knew you’d warm to it eventually.”

“Yeah yeah, Newbie.”

He wraps an arm around me tighter and scents at my throat, releasing mating pheromones as he does so. I shiver gently in response and pull his face up to kiss him, twisting my tongue hard against his. He groans into my mouth, releasing my waist to stroke both hands up, hooking his thumbs behind my ears. I break the kiss to gaze down at him, looking into his dilated pupils.

“Want to have ‘bondmoon’ sex?”

He gives me the sexually-frustrated guard dog look and then moans “yeah” back at me. I grin at him.

“You’ll have to catch me first.”

At his confused expression my grin widens before I pelt away. A few seconds later his brain apparently catches up with the situation and there’s a clatter as he bounds out of his chair after me.

Alphas are much quicker than omegas, that’s not a generalization. They have a much greater muscle mass and can pretty easily run us down, so I’m not surprised when I very rapidly hear Doctor Cox on my heels. I listen intently as the vines whip at my ankles, then corner sharply when I hear the tell-tale sound of his pace changing as he’s about to pounce.

He crashes into the ground to the left of me and I slow down to a trot to look back at him, smirking. He grins at me and starts to charge me again and I zigzag off away from him, laughing.

“Come back here, Newbie, you little bastard.”

I scamper to one side as he lunges at me again, catching my arm briefly, before regaining his balance and turning to face me. I hop backwards a few steps, watching him. He’s still grinning, a carefree sort of smile on his face, looking suddenly younger and almost devastatingly handsome. The rapidly graying sky is moving towards a deep inky blue behind him, the wind ruffling his hair slightly.

“What’re you playing at?”

I shrug, beaming back at him. “Dunno. It’s fun though.”

“Do omegas _like_ getting chased by alphas, Newbie? Because you definitely smell like this some kinda foreplay for you.”

I blink. He’s right, there’s something intrinsically exciting about this, testing him, getting him to prove himself. I think of the amount of times I’ve annoyed him and he’s chased me all over Sacred Heart, oh God, was that some sort of weird mating game we were playing?

He pounces as I’m stood contemplating this and I shoot backwards before scrabbling off again, hearing him hot on my heels. I zigzag desperately, but he’s already closed the gap and his arm wraps around my waist before he bodily lifts me up. I wriggle and then start laughing against his neck. He presses a kiss to my forehead.

“Gotcha.”

“Yeah.”

He collapses down onto the ground, pulling me onto his chest so I don’t jar my hand and then rolling on top of me, pinning me down and kissing me hard.

“Gotcha.” He repeats, running his hands under my shirt. I giggle, squirming, then yelping as he moves his hand further down to gently squeeze my erection.

“Enjoyed that, did you?”

I beam at him, then roll my head back, exposing my throat and groaning loudly. He growls at me in response, dropping his nose down to the bond scar on my neck and inhaling deeply. I yowl back at him softly, wrapping my legs around his waist and pulling him down flat against me.

“Can you two stop having sex in the goddamn vines?” Alex suddenly bellows from the office. “It’s like something from The Lion King, act _human_.”

I hear a high reedy “yayyyy” which I assume is Iolite waking up and celebrating our more bestial side and I giggle into Doctor Cox’s shoulder.

“Caaaaan you feel the love tonight? It is iiiinnn the-“

He kisses me to shut me up.

\- - - - -

After a couple of days of Newbie looking after Iolite and then spending the time that he’s not babysitting a crazy little omega with me knotting him in the vineyard (much to Nugget’s annoyance), I convince the little bastard to go back to the city and move some of his stuff to my apartment.

He’s surprisingly reticent to do this, considering how much he always wanted to spend time there previously. He gives me a mournful look as we drive back in the Porsche.

“I don’t want things to change.”

“We’re _bonded_ Newbie, you idiot. What, you want to live in two separate apartments?”

He shrugs. “Maybe? It feels weird to think I won’t live with Turk and Carla any more.”

“They’re having a kid, Newbie. You’ll need to move out soon enough and at least my place isn’t a tent.”

He whines to himself quietly. I sigh.

“What?”

“I just realized…”

“What did you just realize?”

“I need to tell Dan.”

“Ah shit,” I mutter. Which is when the raccoon throws itself in front of the Porsche and we both swear violently.

\- - - - -

“Oh, _now_ you want to pack some stuff, huh?”

I try the omega eyes on him. They don’t seem to be working any more. I’ve either over-used them or he’s built up a resistance.

“Yeah, I was thinking about what you said and it makes sense to-“

“Bullshit, Newbie. You’re just trying to put off calling Dan.”

“Hey, are you horny? I’m horny.”

“Don’t even try that.”

I sit down on the bed, absently kicking at the bag that I’ve just been packing. “How’m I supposed to tell him about _this_?”

He lifts his eyebrows. “Using your words, maybe?”

“I mean, Turk told him that I was safe and just sleeping off my… adventure or whatever the hell it was that he claimed I was on. I don’t need to do it right now and-“

“Right, so you’ll just put it off and wear a turtleneck for the next few months? Also, what about your decision to come off the inhibitors? How’re you going to explain that?”

I give him a hopeful look. “Maybe I can use filters?”

“You are utterly pathetic, you know that?”

“Yeah…”

As a last ditch attempt to put it off, I lie back on my bed and expose my throat, whining. He sighs and flicks my ear, making me yelp and sit back up before glowering at him.

“Okay, okay, I’m doing it…”

“Good to hear, Jennifer.”

I pick up my iPad, give him one last resentful glance and then call Dan.

“Heeeeyyyyy lil’ br- oh shit, what’s happened?”

“Hey Dan. Chill, it’s all fine.”

“How is it _fine_ , Johnny? Your eyes have gone completely, I thought you’d got the inhibitors working again?”

“Um. Yeah. About that…”

Dan looks furious. “What the hell, Johnny? Have you been lying about that? After everything you still don’t tell me what’s going on, you still don’t trust me to be looking after your best interests?”

“I didn’t want to worry you. Anyway-“

“It’s my _job_ to be worried about you. I’m your alpha, dammit, I’m responsible for you and-“

Doctor Cox growls at this, possibly unintentionally, causing Dan to freeze. When he speaks again, his voice is laced with suspicion. “Johnny, what was that? And why are you sitting at such a weird angle?”

I’m sat with the left side of my body towards the screen so he can’t see the bite. I sigh and then turn my head.

“Oh _Jesus_ , Johnny. Fuck, are you in trouble? Do I need to come and get you? If some bastard’s done that to you against your will we can get you out of this, I’ve saved up enough for a really fucking good lawyer and… and there’s a theory that unwilling omegas don’t biologically bond to the alpha, there’s some drugs trials that-“

I’ve been sat, shocked, at Dan’s tirade, staring at his horrified expression, somehow so surprised I can’t even talk. I always thought he was sort of relaxed about all this, but it appears that he spends his time looking at worst case scenarios and finding medical trials that even _I_ haven't heard about. Apparently deciding he’s let me be pathetic for long enough, Doctor Cox sits down behind me.

“Calm down, Dan. It’s fine.”

“ _Coxer_? What the fuck, have you bitten my little brother, you bastard?”

“It was my idea,” I say softly. “It’s not… it wasn’t unwilling, Dan. I wanted to do it.”

“You _wanted_ to do it? You _wanted_ to be bonded to _him_?”

“Some… people at the hospital… well, everyone at the hospital, actually… found out. And we decided that the best way to keep everything chill was-“

“Oh, and so he bit you out of the goodness of his heart? How very gallant of him.”

“No, it was… look, it’s not like that, it’s-“

“You absolute bastard. I don’t know how you manipulated Johnny into this and you’re not getting away with it. I mean it, Cox, I’m coming down there now and I’m getting my little brother away from you, we’ll damn well figure out how to get your venom out of his bloodstream and-“

“It’s not _like_ that Dan, stop it!”

“Oh, really? Because you’ve not given me one good reason why the hell you’d be bonded to him Johnny, just a load of pretty lame excuses. Why the hell would you bond with him?”

“Because I love him, alright?”

We all freeze, apparently in a state of group shock at what I just publicly declared. A few seconds later Perry emits a low grumbling noise, then abruptly stops that too, looking horrified.

“Did… did Coxer just _purr_?”

I look back at him. He’s _actually_ blushing, I had no idea he could blush. I thought he was blush-proof.

“It was gas,” he mutters.

“Excellent, my brother is apparently in love with a psychotic, gassy alpha. Johnny, what the hell? You’re letting the goddamn family down, having such terrible taste.”

“It’s… look, Dan, I know this seems sudden and… and kinda bad, but it’s not really. I’m… I’m off the inhibitors and I’ve still got my job and… and I’m happy.”

“You’re happy?”

I nod and give him a nervous smile. “Yeah.”

Dan blinks, then glances across at Doctor Cox. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Is this all some one-sided thing? Are you just enjoying having the novelty of an omega at your beck and call and-“

“Shut up,” he snarls. “No. Actually, him being an omega is completely irrelevant. Apart from it causing us both an absolutely enormous headache. Shut the hell up, don’t you dare.”

I flinch. I thought I’d heard him angry before, but the snarl’s actually laced through his words now. Dan rolls his eyes in response.

“Geez, I forget how much of a lack of sense of humor you have sometimes.”

“I have a sense of humor. I have a _fantastic_ sense of humor.”

“Yeah, for your own jokes. You owe me… like, a million dollars, Coxy.”

There’s a brief pause, before Doctor Cox mutters “It’s not one-sided, alright?”

Dan stares at me. “Seriously, Johnny? You chose _him_? That’s a heart-felt romantic confession for him, isn’t it?”

I nod. Dan rolls his eyes again. “Jesus. You aren’t taking his name, are you?”

“No.”

“Thank Christ. If you did I’d insist you change your middle name from Michael to ‘Loves’.”

I frown at him. “What?”

“Keep up, Johnny. John Loves Cox. C’mon.” He grins.

“Very original Dan. No one’s _ever_ said that one before. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m just trying to move some of your moronic little brother’s things into my apartment so _for once_ he has a fucking responsible alpha around, alright? Not that this little chat isn’t absolutely _fascinating_.”

Dan suddenly smirks at him. “Enjoy his heat, Coxy. Can’t think of anyone who deserves that treatment more than you.”

He signs off. I frown. “I forgot to ask him to tell Mom. Or not tell Mom. Or something. I forgot about Mom.”

“What did he mean about your heats?”

“Well… y’know. I get pretty… forceful. He always said he felt sorry for whichever alpha I did actually mate with, reckoned I’d break them.”

“Quite possible, Newb. Fortunately you chose to mate with an absolute paragon of alphaness.”

I roll my eyes. “Have people really made the ‘Loves’ middle name joke before?”

“No, that was quite original,” he grudgingly admits. “C’mon, since you were so eager before, let’s move some of your stuff.”

As he walks out with my backpack I pick up Rowdy. “Er… Perry?”

He glances back at me, his glance flickering over Rowdy with barely-concealed revulsion. “Seriously?”

I tighten my grip on Rowdy and nod, widening my eyes. He sighs. “Fine. Fine. But the official line is that I let you bring it because it would upset Gandhi, alright?”

\- - - - -

For the next month or so my stuff slowly migrates from the apartment to Doctor Cox’s place. Turk is – understandably – upset at Rowdy’s relocation (“dude, I can’t even _visit_ him, that’s cruel”), whilst Carla is delighted. Turk does eventually visit me at Doctor Cox’s place (my place? Our place? It doesn’t quite seem right yet), but is uncomfortable throughout. He described it to me later as being difficult to explain, but was something to do with being in another alpha’s territory. It put him on edge.

Carla tries to include me in her social group of recessive omegas, but I pretty much avoid it wherever possible. I've sort of made my own little omega group in the physical and digital world, a weird mishmash of dominant and recessive omegas with varying levels of stability. For the first time in my life I'm in one and it brings an odd combination of comfort, happiness and annoyance in different levels depending on the situation. I feel horribly responsible for them all and like some sort of big brother. It's a novel experience and one Greg has pointed out is slightly ridiculous since I'm not the oldest or the most dominant. Max also cheerfully insisted that he could be more dominant than any of us as none of us have smelt him in the flesh yet. Greg then informed him that he didn't want to smell me as I smelt like toilet cleaner now.

Greg is annoying. 

I also carry on hanging out with the same people as before. And, to my incredible relief, it’s not like when I presented. I mean, yeah, there is some staring and weirdness, but people seem to snap back into remembering who I am, usually when I do something clutsy or daydream when they’re talking to me and they get pissed off and snap at me.

The alphas are – obviously – the worst. It’s just biology, it doesn’t mean anything. I tell myself this for what feels like the six billionth time and then sigh and look over at him.

“Stop it, Turk.”

“Sorry, man.”

“I don’t look all that different.”

I sigh and lean against the nurses’ station. He shrugs. “Nah, it’s just… it’s weird, y’know?”

“Sorry.”

“Stop being stupid, dude. You don’t need to apologize, it just takes a while to get used to. I keep forgetting.”

I pull a face. “Then just forget it. It doesn’t make any difference, you know. I’m still me.”

“I know, V-B. Anyway, it’s a bit less weird now that Cox isn’t _constantly_ within about ten feet of you.”

I smirk. “Yeah.”

A few days ago the bonding pheromone mess seemed to wear off and Perry discovered that he could go into a different room to me without the alpha part of him having a frothing psychotic meltdown at the separation. At this realization he had given me an utterly insane grin, rolled his crazy eyes and then cheerfully announced “thank _Christ_ Felicia, you really are incredibly annoying” and then gone off to the lounge. I’d say I was hurt, but the relief of him not hanging around all the time like an enormous sexually frustrated bat was too overwhelming and I’d just nodded emphatically.

“Can you get Carla to stop inviting me to her omega slumber parties or whatever the hell she keeps trying to do, by the way? I know she thinks she’s being charitable, but it’s really annoying.”

“Yeah, sorry man. She just misses you. We both do.”

I shrug. “I’m still around. You guys should try coming over when Perry’s out, maybe it’d be a bit… less… weird…”

Turk frowns at me. “You alright, JD? You’ve gone really pale.”

I shiver. “Shit. Can… can you get Doctor Cox for me? Please?”

“What is it?”

I cling onto the nurses’ station and glance at him. “You can’t smell it?”

He moves slightly closer, then backs off suddenly. “Shit. Yeah. Hang on, man, I’ll page him. I’m not gonna leave you on your own.”

“It’s not… too bad.” I grit my teeth, the horrible chill of a second ago suddenly replaced by warmth lacing up through my stomach. “It’ll take a while to get going.”

He’s frantically paging and when he’s done he looks up at me. “Is this supposed to be happening?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. My last heat was… I guess around three months ago. I didn’t know if being on the inhibitors for another month or so would delay it. Apparently not.”

I shudder and lean my head against the desk, smelling anxiety from Turk. I sigh. Maybe the third time will be the charm?

\- - - - -

Gandhi is practically dancing with nerves and I roll my eyes at him. Newbie’s leaning against the desk, looking distinctly peaky. I sigh at him.

“Seriously? Here was me thinking I’d gotten some well-deserved time away from you, you little pest.”

“Sorry…”

I can smell it already, a faint tinny, spicy siren call. I sigh again and walk over to him, gently pulling him against me. He slumps exhaustedly onto my shoulder and I stroke his back. “Stop apologizing. Has it just started?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

We’ve both got three hours of shift left, but _that’s_ not happening now. Fortunately I wasn’t in the middle of anything when Gandhi sent me his hysterical message. I glance down at the mess of dark hair pressed against me.

“C’mon,” I murmur to him. “Let’s get your horny ass home.”

\- - - - -

Fortunately, since Gandhi is so incredibly anxious about Newbie I can get him to run around for me as I drag Newb along to the Porsche, meaning I don’t need to bother going and telling Kelso, rearranging shifts or even picking up the medication I need. I’ve just deposited Newbie into the passenger seat when Gandhi appears at my elbow with the pharmacy bag. Newbie glances over at it.

“What’s that?”

“Birth control.” Gandhi tells him, looking embarrassed.

He closes his eyes. “Oh, Jesus.”

I frown at him. “What? I’m not ready for that, you sure as hell aren’t ready for that and I’m _certain_ that the world isn’t ready for… what a Newox? A Cewbie?”

He briefly opens his eyes with a ridiculously soppy expression on his face. “Oh my God, it would be adorable.”

“No it wouldn’t, Newbie.”

It kinda would, actually, but it’s way too early to even consider that. I suspect Newbie’s forgotten that he’d have to give birth to the thing.

“He’s gone heat-crazy already,” Gandhi mutters. I snatch the bag off of him and deposit it on Newbie, who peers into it, apparently still thinking about bizarre Newbie-Cox puppies.

“What did Bobbo say?”

“’Get those horny bastards out of my hospital stat’.”

“Sounds about right.”

“Look after him, alright?”

I pull a face at him. “That’s what I’m about to do, Gandhi.”

He looks sickened at the mental image and I sigh. “Yeah yeah, whatever. He’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

I get into the Porsche and glance over at Newbie. He’s still looking into the bag thoughtfully.

“What’s up with you?”

“Maybe we should see what happens without-“

“No. Nuh-uh. No way, Jose. Don’t even think about it, you little lunatic.”

“But-“

“You’d realize what that would involve, right? I’m not saying never, but this is way too soon. You didn’t even want to move into my place a few weeks ago and now you’re suggesting we have a _kid_?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” I start driving. “Stop listening to your hormones, you moron.”

“It’d be cute though, right?”

“No, stop talking shit.”

“It would though, right?”

“No. It would be terrible. It would be pathetic and whiny and manipulative and psychotic and narcissistic. It would probably bully you. And you’d probably let it.”

“But it’d be cute, yeah?”

I sigh. “Yeah, probably.”

\- - - - -

I’m not going to say that Newbie’s adorable in early heat or anything, but Newbie’s _absolutely_ adorable in early heat. He’s apparently given in to all of his omega urges and has basically turned into an overly affectionate, purring, boiling hot bundle of pheromones and nerve endings. He’s currently curled up in my lap, nuzzling against my neck, purring and crooning loudly and releasing enough pheromones to knock out most alphas.

I kiss his forehead softly. “You’re basically drunk like this, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” he nuzzles into me and lets out a particularly loud purr. “Have you put a towel down?”

I smirk into his hair. “Yeah, for all the use it’ll do.”

He squirms, whining softly. “Can you do it yet?”

I injected him with the birth control about two hours ago, when he was still more sentient and we were trying to watch a movie. It went downhill pretty quickly after, with Newbie utterly disinterested in any other activity than apparently attempting to melt into me.

“I’m guessing I should wait until you’re in full heat, right?”

He squirms again and I sigh as he presses his erection against my stomach and then pulls away from nuzzling to kiss me hard.

“Do it?”

“JD, I think-“

He abruptly rocks hard against my erection, grinding his ass against me, the sopping wet material of his underwear feeling hot and _God_ , this feels good.

“Do it?”

He’s already scrabbling at my belt and I grin at him. “Hey, if you want to be proactive then be my guest.”

\- - - - -

I’m dozing on the sofa, having being pretty thoroughly ridden by Newbie about three hours ago when I’m jerked awake. He’s no longer looking hazy and muzzy and lost. He’s kneeling naked over my lap, legs either side of mine, staring at me with an almost terrifying degree of focus which I don't think I've ever seen on him.

“Hey Newb.”

He doesn’t reply, just continues staring at me. He then leans forward and inhales deeply. I pull away.

“Hey, what’re you-?”

He growls at me, pulling me back to where I was before and then continuing to scent me. I lift an arm up to wrap around his waist and he growls again, slapping it away. After a few more seconds of him breathing deeply he pulls back and frowns at me. I stare back at him.

“Uh, JD?”

He leans his head back and then – _Jesus_ , I thought his pheromones before were strong. This is like getting hit in the face with a brick. There’s no specific scent either, not mating, not anxiety, not distress, he’s just releasing pure _omega_ at me. I briefly can’t breathe, there’s no oxygen. Unthinking, I release a wave back.

He takes a deep breath and then leans forward, pressing his forehead against mine, staring into my eyes intensely, holding my cheek firmly in place.

“ _Mine_.”

I bare my teeth at him, grabbing him by the neck and snarl back: “Mine.”

He bounds out of my lap, stalking naked around the apartment, occasionally pausing and apparently posing, staring back at me, his skin highlighted and glowing in the moonlight, his eyes nearly fluorescent. His movements are all controlled, fluid, somehow haughty.

He’s… he’s doing some sort of omega mating dance for me. He’s… oh my _God_ , he’s displaying himself for me. My brain, already heavily inhibited from his pheromones, apparently decides to take a vacation and I act on instinct as the rut pheromones kick in.

I stalk forward, seizing him roughly and slamming him against the wall, releasing a wave of mating pheromones. He exposes his throat and whines, releasing them right back at me. I snarl and then abruptly lift him up. He wraps his legs around my waist in response, clinging onto my shoulder with his good hand and angling his hips just right. Unthinking, I thrust up into the hot, welcoming, soaking wet embrace of his body. He rolls his head back and moans “ _yes_ ”. I growl furiously against his clavicle and start to brutally fuck into him. He meets every thrust, jerking his body against me, snarling and growling and then purring right back at me. I hiss at him, flattening him against the wall with my body, immobilizing him and then pounding into him with sharp hip jerks.

He yelps, his arms and legs tightening around me as I pin him in place and take him, claim him, make love to him. I blink the sweat out of my eyes and kiss up the column of his throat, very gently baring my fangs against his neck and dragging a sharp point over the hollow of his solar plexus.

His breath suddenly hitches and I feel him tighten around me. “Oh,” he gasps out. “Oh, oh, Perry, oh…”

“Fuck yeah, JD, come on.”

I thrust into him almost viciously and then he’s clamping around me hard, dragging me deep into him and starting to come all over my stomach. I groan, my head rolling back as I knot him and start to pulse and spasm deep inside him, the pleasure so intense it nearly hurts.

\- - - - -

Apparently third time was the charm. I grin to myself, snuggled up in bed, eyes still closed. That was _amazing_.

I crack my eyes open and roll over. Perry is sprawled face down in bed next to me. I prod him.

“Hey. Did I kill you?”

He groans. I prod him again. He groans again. I prod him.

“You tried damn hard.” His voice is muffled.

“You seemed to enjoy yourself.”

“You’ve done my back in, you Newbie bastard.”

I go get ice. Then, since I’m in post heat, I build a nest around him with the duvet, pillows and use Rowdy as a ballast. He doesn’t seem to appreciate it, glancing around at my masterpiece once I’ve put the ice on his back and snuggled up against him.

“Have you just made a pillow fort or something?”

Ungrateful bastard. Alphas don’t often get invited into omega nests, they’re usually just for us and any accompanying omegas. I frown at him.

“It’s not a pillow fort, it’s a _nest_.”

“Right. Why’s the dead dog in it?”

“He’s providing stability.”

I wriggle half underneath him and wrap my arms around his shoulders as he lies prone with the ice slowly melting on his back.

“Great. So, I’m in a nest, lying on something that feels like it’s roughly the temperature of the sun whilst my back is slowly getting frozen. I’m going to die from simultaneous heatstroke and frostbite. Unless I get sexed to death first.”

I nod. This sounds reasonable. Then I frown.

“No, you can’t die. I’m hungry.”

He collapses against me, groaning loudly.

\- - - - -

After his heat Newbie is almost sickeningly cheerful. He’s like a ray of sunshine hyped up on sugar and caffeine. It’s incredibly annoying. As are everyone’s knowing looks and the fact I’m still limping slightly. And everyone's being incredibly indulgent of Newbie and his stupid behavior, since apparently extremely happy dominant omegas make everyone in a good mood, even betas. I even saw Brenner buy him a coffee the other day and then apparently just manage to stop himself from petting Newbie's hair when he beamed at him in thanks.

God’s sake. Even Gandhi sidles up to me and confides in me that sometimes Carla’s heats take it out of him too. I nearly erupt at him, only managing to keep my temper by thinking how much worse my back will throb if my blood pressure increases too much.

I refuse to have sex with Newbie for several days after, claiming it’s because I’m sick of constantly being around him rather than the genuine reason of self-preservation. I eventually relent when he trails around after me smelling sad and looking at me with big luminescent eyes. After I agree he tells me not to worry and he’ll be gentle with me. I retract my agreement and sulk in the rut room until he apologizes. On his knees. With my damn cock in his mouth.

Actually, he was a pretty good sport about that. He’s improving his technique as well. In the spirit of that, I reciprocate, which he is, as ever, almost deliriously pleased by.

Afterwards I’m spooning him on the sofa when he asks: “Does your back still hurt?”

I frown at him. He sighs. “What? Is it un-alpha to have a bad back?”

Kind of, actually. I’m supposed to spend all my time demonstrating why I’m so goddamn amazing to him. Admitting a vulnerability to an omega isn’t something alphas are encouraged to do, quite the opposite. I bite back the stupid alpha conditioning, figuring that if Newbie can be off the inhibitors and still be himself then I can ignore that stereotypical bullshit too.

“Yeah, it’s still sore.”

“Oh. Sorry. Do you think you should go to a chiropractor or something?”

“I think I mainly shouldn’t screw you up against a wall repeatedly. I think that was the main cause.”

“Didn’t it hurt at the time? Why didn’t you stop?”

“You know what the damn pheromones do. It’s apparently even worse during heat and it’s pretty difficult to stop when I’m in rut. It didn’t hurt then, I was only focused on one sensation at the time.”

He giggles and I tighten my grasp on him. “Sorry about that. It was… pretty rough.”

He purrs. “Yeah. It was _awesome_.”

I frown. “Awesome?”

“Yeah.” He snuggles up against me. “I’m actually kinda looking forward to my next heat. That’s weird, right?”

“You’re weird.”

“True dat.”

“Ugh.”

After a minute I grudgingly add: “I’m glad it wasn’t so bad for you this time.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

He looks into my eyes thoughtfully for a moment, then softly tells me: “I love you.”

I look back at him for a few seconds, floored by the emotion and the sincerity in his voice and expression. I’m still not quite used to it and I think he isn’t either. “I love you too.”

\- - - - -

It’s a damn good thing I love him, since his stupid brother is descending upon us. With _Barbie_ of all people. I have to voluntarily have Dan Moron Dorian and Barbarella in my goddamn apartment. At the same time, like them individually wasn’t bad enough.

“Why is he doing this?” I growl. Newbie shrugs.

“He’s not actually visited for a while. I think he… well, this is gonna sound weird, but I think he wants to smell you.”

“To _smell_ me?”

“Yeah. To check, y’know?”

“Check _what_ , Priscilla?”

“That it’s a proper bond? I dunno.”

“And why Barbie?”

“She’s apparently a neutral observer. Like Switzerland.”

I roll my eyes. Barbie’s like Swiss cheese. Full of goddamn holes.

\- - - - -

“Heyyyy lil’ brother.”

Dan drags me into a hug, releasing comforting alpha pheromones at me. I hug him back, inhaling his tree bark smell and releasing some muted pheromones in response. He laughs quietly and pulls back, holding my shoulders and staring into my eyes. “God, I’ve not seen you like this in _years_. I forgot how much you stink of pomegranate.”

“Pomegranate?”

Elliot’s looking at us in confusion. Dan grins. “Yeah and because he’s dominant he absolutely _reeks_. You smell a bit different now though, there’s a… oh, you smell of Coxy too. That’s weird.”

I sense the air shift behind me and then smell Doctor Cox behind me. “Not that weird. Stop mauling Newbie in the doorway and come in.”

“Jesus, Coxer, look at the state of your neck. Did Johnny do that?”

“No, it was a goddamn rabid raccoon.”

We trail into the apartment, Perry smelling of pissed off alpha and Dan apparently sniggering at this. Elliot can’t smell anything and is continuing to look bemused. I shrug at her. “They’re just having an alpha-off, I wouldn’t worry.”

“I brought you an invoice, by the way.” Dan grins at Perry and I flinch, wishing he’d stop that joke after what happened to Paige. Perry snorts in response, giving Dan a slightly indulgent look and then taking the proffered envelope, opening it and then full-out smirking.

“’One dorky over-sized dominant omega, slightly aging, drugged up with a medical degree. Rough market evaluation c. 1.2 million dollars. Payment by bank transfer or owing D. Dorian for the rest of my angry life’?”

“I’m not dorky,” I protest. Doctor Cox glances back at me.

“But you’re fine with ‘slightly aging’ and ‘drugged up’?”

I shrug. Dan has moved slightly closer to him and is apparently assessing him carefully, frowning as he does so. Perry notices me watching him and glances back at him.

“What the hell are you doing, Dan?”

“You smell like Johnny too.”

“Yeah, that’s because your feral little brother bit me. At my insistence, I should add, so I probably can’t complain about it.”

“I’m sure you’ll try,” I mutter. Elliot giggles.

Dan’s still looking confused, then glances between the two of us. “It’s… it’s a genuine bond, isn’t it? I thought it’d maybe not smell right, but you two are _actually_ bonded?”

“Well… yeah Dan.” I reply, bemused. “I did _tell_ you.”

“Yeah, but you’re incredibly suggestible, Johnny. Oh God, am I going to have to tell Mom she’s going to be a grandmother? She’ll be absolutely beside herself, she might even stop marrying everyone she meets if she gets a grand-kid.”

“Of course not, Dan.” I snap back, not looking at Doctor Cox. I know he’s smirking at me going all weird during my heat. I still think it’d be cute. I mean, I don’t want it yet, but it’s still only accurate and honest to admit that the Cewbie would be freaking adorable.

“Really? Might knock off some of the horror of her having to meet Coxer at some point if you can throw in a baby. Take some of the edge off.”

We both glare at Dan.

\- - - - -

“Did she take it okay?”

Dan sighs. “Don’t worry Johnny, I didn’t tell her what an absolute tool your new alpha was. I explained it as you meeting a ‘nice alpha’ who you worked with. She’s incredibly relieved actually, she’s been terrified what could have happened to you. She reads a load of horror stories off the Internet, you know? She thinks you’re safe now. She does want to meet him. I think we should delay it as long as possible for her sake.”

I roll my eyes. “Stop ragging on him. You know you like him really.”

“Um. I don’t really, Johnny. But it’s fun to annoy him, so at least you’re hooked up with someone who’s good entertainment value.”

I pull a face at him. “Yeah, I’d limit annoying him. He’s already around me a load, he can’t take much more annoyance.”

“That’s happening less, right? Now the immediate bond response is wearing off? He’s gone to work now, so presumably he can be separated from you.”

“Yeah. I think he still gets anxious if it’s for quite a long time, but it’s way better than it was. I could barely pee in peace. You alphas are stupid.”

“You got that right, lil’ brother.”

He lifts his beer at me in a toast and grins. I lift my honey scotch in response.

“You sure you don’t want to stay here? I know you’re booked into a hotel, but-“

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“You could stay at the old apartment if it’s Perry's scent that's bothering you, I’m sure Turk and Carla would be fine with it.”

“It’s cool, Johnny. You forget that I’ve essentially been hoarding money for the last fourteen-odd years for your inhibitors and in case anything went wrong. I’m _loaded_ , lil’ brother.”

I glance down at my drink and then back up at him. “Not as loaded as you could have been.”

Dan’s expression softens. “Don’t start that. Selling you was never an option. Coxer does know I’m joking about that, right? He went a bit crazy when I said about it that time on the vid call.”

“I… I know it wasn’t an option to you. Do you know how unusual that makes you?”

Dan looks uncomfortable. “Not really, Johnny. It shouldn’t be an option to _anyone_. I’m not unusually decent, just… everyone else is unusually indecent.”

I put my scotch down and twist my hands together, carefully moving my healing hand against the other and not looking at him. “I’ve realized… well, I realized that I’ve spent a lot of time recently thanking people for helping me and… and I’ve never thanked you, Dan.”

“You don’t need to thank me.”

I close my eyes. “I do. I really do, Dan. You’ve stood by me, treated me the same and put up with me being a dick to you, lying to you, disrespecting you… It’s massively impacted your life way more than it’s impacted mine. I don't think I ever really understood how much you felt responsible for me, you've always down played it so much that I just took it for granted. And then I just… did what made me happy. Y’know? I could have-“

“Doing what made you happy is the one goddamn ‘selfish’ thing you’ve ever done, Johnny. And if he really makes you happy then that’s good enough for me. My only concern was ever that you were just... I don't know, being used by him or manipulated or something.”

It's ironic that Dan's worried about _me_ being manipulated. As Perry would (rightly) point out, there's only one sneaky little weasel in this relationship and it isn't him. My eyes are still closed. “I still haven’t said thank you.”

“You don’t need to-“

I’ve been practicing this with Perry, practicing being able to release this without smelling of anxiety or accidentally overdoing it and knocking Dan out. As soon as I start he stops talking and I drop my head down, biting my lip, trying not to cry, trying not to be so goddamn _omega_ about just telling my brother that I love him.

He wraps an arm around me and releases the scent back. I lean on his shoulder and glance up at him.

“I’m sorry, Dan. I really am sorry that I… I got carried away. I was just trying to stop you from worrying but I blocked you out and then I… then I had to run for a while and I got so focused on this and I didn’t think of you, I’m so sorry Dan, I-“

“Shut up, Johnny. Don’t worry about it. I know you can look after yourself. Coxer doesn’t know what he’s got himself in to, does he?”

I give him a weak grin. “He does now. He was limping after my heat.”

“Now _there’s_ my crazy lil’ omega brother. Proud of you, man.”

Dan looks thoughtful for a moment. “But… _bonding_. With Coxer? I mean, really? I know no other alphas knew, but you could have had other options if you’d decided you wanted to bond.”

“I didn’t want to bond. Or… I didn’t just want to bond with anyone. I wanted to bond with _him_.”

“And you’re still happy with that decision?”

I think about it, think about everything that’s happened, think about how much everything’s changed, think about how people look at me differently now, think about the couple of times I’ve had patients quietly request a change in medical attending, assuming that I’m not competent or some sort of show pony. Then I think about when I last saw Io, her cheerfully telling me that she’s telling other omegas about her friend who’s a dominant omega and openly working as a doctor without taking inhibitors and how it helps them to keep going, to have hope and make their own quiet, carefully-assessed stands for their rights. Think about Max, who’s suggested we meet up soon in person and bitch about our alphas. Think about Carla telling me that she’s proud of me and completely understanding why I hid it and berating me for thinking she'd be pissed at me. Being able to be honest with Elliot. Not living a lie.

And I think of Perry. Not just the sex (but _damn_ , the sex), but banal shit like sitting on the couch with him watching movies where it’s raining all the time and Gwyneth Paltrow’s head is in a box, one of his arms loosely slung around me. Looking after him when he’s screwed his stupid back up by being all alpha. Curled up in bed with him, purring against his neck, him now occasionally letting out that low purring noise back at me, looking oddly bashful when he does it.

And those times that are still rare and precious, where we tell each other we love one another. In words, not in pheromones, like actual normal people, not crazy assholes driven by biology clouding our judgement, acting like humans, not animals. Because both of us use that shit as an excuse and so when we actually _say_ we love one another it’s different to that. It’s more vulnerable. More frightening. More genuine.

I think of Perry sleeping softly against me after a shift, his head cocooned in my lap, an arm wrapped around my waist as I prop myself up against the headboard of the bed and read while I stroke his hair.

I smile at Dan and lift my drink at him in a toast.

“It’s the best decision I ever made.”

Dan smiles back at me and lifts his beer in return.

“I’m glad, lil’ brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It felt really appropriate for the ending to have Dan and JD talking. I always regretted that Dan takes a bit of a back seat in the middle of this story (I love protective big brother alpha Dan), but this thing is already so long and I just couldn't add any more to it.
> 
> However... well, click next chapter for a Perry epilogue.


	23. 23. Epilogue

**My Unorthodox Treatment**

**by RumCove**

**Epilogue**

Disclaimer: Scrubs original characters belong to Bill Lawrence and NBC/ABC/Doozer Productions etc. Basically, not owned by me. I own the original characters in this work.

“How’s your back, Perry?”

Carla’s smirking at me and I narrow my eyes at her. “It’s fine, Carla.”

“That’s whatchu get for hooking up with a dominant omega fifteen years younger than you.”

“What I _get_ for hooking up with a dominant omega fifteen years younger than me is a kitchen full of cotton candy, caramel drizzle, the disturbing addition of honey scotch to my collection, a cupboard full of appletini ingredients and a dead dog in my living room.”

“I am _so_ glad JD stole Rowdy. That thing creeped the hell out of me.”

“Yeah, well now it’s creeping the hell out of me. He won’t even let me put it in the spare room. He says the damn thing will get lonely. How can a dead dog get lonely?”

Carla shrugs. “It’s not even the original dead dog, I lost that one. Don’t tell them.”

“I also get his goddamn brother in my apartment. Although I’m assured that he’ll be gone in two hours when my shift is over.”

She grins at me. “It’s nice seeing you happy.”

“I’m not _happy_.”

“Not about Dan maybe.”

I flap a hand at her dismissively. “Yeah yeah, Carla.”

\- - - - -

_Happy_? Is that what this shit is? Happiness? I mainly feel pissed off right now. This is my first shift since we’ve been on the same schedule, getting back to normality again. The people here are all idiots. Bob’s a moron and that damn Janitor just attempted to trip me up with his goddamn mop. I’ve had two patients code on me and only saved one of them. A druggie came in and tried to steal out of the damn pharmacy. And Bob’s put yet another gomer on my patient list and so now I’m trying to get his temperature down so I can dispatch him back to the care home.

And one of my patients earlier stared at my neck and then hesitantly asked whether I was an omega. I stared at him.

“What?”

“Just… just the bite. I’d assume you aren’t one, but-“

I’d narrowed my eyes and glared at him. Once I probably would have launched into a tirade about how I clearly was _nahwt_ an omega and didn’t they teach basic gender recognition these days and did I seriously _look_ like I was an omega, I’m over six foot and built like a fucking Adonis.

Instead of this I’d simply asked: “Would it be a problem if I was?”

He’d looked uncomfortable and then looked at my ID, seeing I was an alpha. A look of relief ran over his face. “Ah, geez, sorry man. I didn’t mean to insult you. Guessing your omega’s quite frisky to do that to you though.”

“Would it be a problem?” I repeated, my eyebrows raised, ignoring this piece of shit beta commenting on my ‘frisky’ omega.

“Well. Yeah. They’re only able to be nurses, right? But sorry, obviously I’m happy to have _you_ as my doctor.”

“Yeah, well I’m not happy having you as my patient.”

I’d stalked out without another word and handed him over to Barbie, suggesting that she check his prostate and not to use any goddamn lube.

To my surprise, Bob didn’t hunt me down and berate me for this, simply joining me stewing in fury at my station keeping the wall standing upright and standing with me in solidarity for a while.

So, all in all, this has been a long, exhausting, miserable day. Getting into the Porsche afterwards feels like a relief and I drive back home with the windows down, enjoying the cool 3am night breeze, a slight drizzle of rain in the air, coating my face with a dewy sheen. Washing that off, all of that, the disappointment, the frustration, the pain, the bleakness, leaving it behind.

The apartment smells of pomegranate, still not something I’m quite used to yet, still a pleasant surprise. I glance around the living room as I lock the door behind me, barely recognizing it. JD’s presence is everywhere, even discounting the damn (imposter) dead dog. He’s tried to make it more homely, adding rugs and throws and things, which mainly get in the way for both of us and I think he mostly added them so he had material to make his ridiculous nests. I feel like I should find it annoying; slipping on the rugs every so often, having to drag a cushion away from my back every time I sit on the damn couch, the _clutter_. It should be annoying, but I find it comforting.

Like him. Annoying and comforting in equal measure.

I confirm that he’s asleep in the main bedroom, smelling slightly like honey – he’s been drinking that scotch again, I’ll have to buy some more. I then shower off the rest of the horror and pain from Sacred Heart and go to him, warm and sleepy, curled up in the bed. Wrap myself around him and kiss his temple gently as he already starts to purr in his sleep and entwine himself with me.

And I lose myself with my omega, wrap him in my arms, something good, something clean, something _right_.

Hey, for once Carla is right. I _am_ happy.


	24. 24. Author's Note

**Author's Note**

So, there’s some bits and pieces that some people might have questions about, so I’ve shoved some of the notes in I wrote accompanying this here, if you’re interested. I realised recently that this is the longest fic in the Scrubs AO3 archive so wow – thanks for all of you sticking with it.

OC Bios:

Omegas:

**Amber FitzAlan:** Dominant omega, 24. Privileged, wealthy, quite “stereotypical” (likes male alphas, wants to bond, have children, doesn’t really have an issue too much with the status quo as she genuinely wants to be someone’s omega, etc.). Graduated an omega finishing school and then studied design at an omega university (because her twin wanted to go), graduating and becoming a fashion designer. Works from home and accompanies her sister most places, partially out of affection and partially to keep her in check (in all ways). Regulates her sister’s pheromones, putting a huge stress on her system without realising. As a result, goes into heat early in a public place. Is attacked and killed by a group of alphas. JD tries to resuscitate her, which causes his inhibitors to fail, which then triggers Sanders to charge him and Perry to protect him, causing the partially-bonded state of My Unorthodox Treatment. Short with long, wavy reddish brown hair, glowing green eyes, wears expensive flowing fabrics, usually designed by her. Smells like rosepetals.

 **Marcie FitzAlan:** The FitzAlan clan matriarch, a dominant omega in her late forties. Used to assist her husband, Roger FitzAlan, manage the FitzAlan vineyard estate, but handed most of the duties over to her younger son. A socialite, she’s focused on trying to increase the social standing of her omega daughters and teach them how to cope. She believed that Amber was going to do well and was concerned about Iolite and her plans to be a lawyer. Amber’s death nearly results in her becoming unregulated and as a result she is separated from Iolite to keep her pheromones stable. She remains at the main house on the FitzAlan estate during the fic and sees her sons only, although video chats with Iolite each day. Tall, blonde, blue eyed, only seen once wearing black. Smells like rosepetals.

 **Iolite (Io) FitzAlan:** Dominant omega and Amber’s (very slightly) younger sister, 24. Despite her wealthy background, she was badly traumatised at 17 and lost control of her pheromones, resulting in her becoming highly dominant and pheromonally and psychologically unstable. Intentionally changed her appearance in response to look as unlike her sister as she could to not allow her behaviour to potentially cause issues for Amber and to convince herself that she was not weak or helpless. Terrified of being “found out” as feral and the resultant forced bonding by omega registration bureaus. Strong advocate of omega rights and exceptionally intelligent, although lacking in common sense and social intelligence. _Demonstrates extreme risk taking behaviour/is dismissive of risk/danger_ (key to plot). Releases a vlog and studying law (needs to have hints of this throughout so not too random when revealed, but not outright stated or might signpost her role too clearly). Befriends JD, initially believing that he’s a Janitor. Eventually finds out he’s a Doctor. Also befriends Elliot, but JD doesn’t realise how much (also key, or JD could use her as a conduit to get a message to Perry when separated – only ever have Cox apparently realise how much time Elliot is spending with her). JD runs into her when trying to warn Perry about Carla and Turk finding out about him. Helps him and suggests legal solution. Induces her own heat and displays as a distraction when in danger of the registration companies being called and to force SH Board to continue allowing JD to practice. Short, cropped reddish brown hair spiked up and dyed blonde at the tips, green eyes, punk appearance, generally wearing enormous platformed boots in an attempt to look taller. Smells like rosepetals.

 **Maximillian (Max) Meyer:** A 30 year old dominant omega who writes an online blog in an attempt to reach out to other omegas and reassure them. He was previously very involved in the club scene and linked to some unsavoury alphas before meeting his husband and leaving that life behind. As a result, he’s lost all contact with his family, is lonely, slightly bored and limited in his options as he never had any further education after graduating omega finishing school. However, he’s still cheerful and positive, happy that he’s met someone that he adores and is happy with, although he wants more engagement with other omegas. Around 5’8” with curly dark hair and hazel eyes. Smells like cherries.

 **Greggory (Greg) Kennedy:** 35 year old recessive omega who works at an omega heat clinic. He was previously a veterinary nurse, but left his home town and started again elsewhere after his alpha became jealous and unstable and attempted to murder him after subjecting him to domestic abuse. Despite his former partner being proved beyond all doubt of being guilty he was ostracized and threatened within his community for speaking out, so left. As a result, he’s jaded and incredibly distrustful of alphas, preferring to stay in the company of omegas and betas and actively rejecting any alphas. Short, blond, blue eyes, visible bond scar which he hates. Smells like apples.

(Not OC, but different from show) **Paige Cox:** Perry Cox’s younger sister who presented as dominant omega. Sent to an omega finishing school and sold off underage by their father to a rich alpha, despite Perry’s protests. Went from a “spunky little kid” who was interested in natural history to feeling she had to conform to an idealised image of an omega, slowly losing herself. After several years of slow mental abuse and rejecting Perry’s attempts to get her help, she tried to start a family but kept miscarrying due to the psychological stress she was under. Murdered by her alpha partner 10 years before the start of My Unorthodox Treatment aged 30.

Betas:

**Paula Lemmons:** A beta nurse who may or not have the surname of Lemmons. Referred to by Doctor Cox as Lemon Cake Nurse, she assists Elliot and JD in trying to save Amber.

 **Unnamed beta pharmacist:** Female beta who shows a lot of morbid curiosity at the death of Amber FitzAlan and around dominant omegas in general. Apparently slightly taken with Doctor Cox, judging by her reactions to him being slightly charming around her when trying to get inhibitors.

 **Professor Craig Gillespie:** Elliot’s former pheromonal studies professor based in Virginia University, initially mentioned in an early chapter by Elliot in passing and later correctly identifies the issue causing the inhibitor rejection in a video call with JD and Elliot. Dry, witty and with an eclectic taste in his clothing, in his mid-40s with greying dark curly hair. Very fond of Elliot, although slightly exasperated by her. As an expert in the field, he regularly helps out omegas with advice when they come to him and tries to quietly let it be known that he is willing to help any omega who needs him. Not a counsellor…

 **Doctor Chris Reyner:** Runs an omega clinic near to the FitzAlan vineyard and a talented omega specialist who genuinely cares about omegas. Rejects only doing fertility treatments and looks after all of the FitzAlan omegas for a lucrative amount of money. Is aware of Iolite’s scheme where she pretends various unrelated omegas are family and ignores this, as he disagrees with the way omegas are treated. Tries to do work in free clinics for omegas, but has difficulty getting any to agree to advertise and is resigned to treating rich omegas and only able to help through Iolite’s “strays”.

Alphas:

**Doctor Antony Brenner:** A senior surgeon in Sacred Heart who’s a dominant alpha. Bonded to a female recessive omega and quite misogynist – likely coming across as worse than he is, as he’s easily stressed at the idea of omegas being injured or distressed and strongly believes that they should be kept away from any situation that could cause this. Likely been at Sacred Heart for around as long as Doctor Cox and likely mildly jealous of him.

 **Doctor James Sanders:** An internal medicine resident and highly dominant alpha. Very tall and heavily built, tries to charge when JD’s resuscitating Amber. Initially believed to be charging him because he’s apparently “hurting” Amber, later revealed he’s likely smelt JD, although not realised exactly where the pheromones were coming from. Stopped by Doctor Cox, causing the partial bond between JD and Perry. Later sort of asks JD out, who’s a bit too slow to realise what’s happening. Isn’t surprised by Kelso telling the staff that JD is an omega, although intentionally doesn’t say anything to try to protect him.

 **Roger FitzAlan:** Dominant alpha patriarch of the FitzAlans, in his early fifties with reddish-brown hair, green eyes and quite short. Bought up large swathes of land early in his career and turned them into highly profitable vineyards along the California coastline. Amassed enough wealth to buy a dominant omega mate (Marcie) and settle down in the main part of his estate to raise a family. Works with his younger son to manage the estate and gradually hand over control to him for an early retirement. Slightly ironically, he smells of grape vines.

 **Mica FitzAlan:** Oldest FitzAlan child at 29, Mica is a borderline dominant alpha. Highly intelligent and a hard worker, Mica excelled in his studies and went to a prestigious university. Uninterested in vineyards, he left university and set up his own business, much to the annoyance of his father. Highly successful and intolerant of any perceived weaknesses, he’s bullied his siblings through most of their lives, partially out of frustration with himself and also annoyance with them. He’s particularly critical of Iolite, since he feels she has similar failings to him, although in reality she’s his favourite. Smells of grape vines, much to his disgust.

 **Doctor Steve Cohen:** Recessive alpha doctor who runs the omega heat clinic JD goes to. He’s particularly fascinated by male omegas and is extremely keen to study them. He occasionally attempts to study Greg and is usually rebuffed by him.

 **Adam Tyler:** Former Special Forces officer, now a dominant alpha bodyguard for the FitzAlans. Met his partner Marco in the military and withstood a lot of criticism and negative comments regarding their relationship before leaving and signing up with private security. Now married to Marco and happily living on the FitzAlan estate and looking after Iolite (and Marcie, if she ever goes out). Marco and Adam view the FitzAlan omegas as part of their extended family.

 **Marco Rossi:** Essentially the same as Adam. Committed member of Iolite’s omega rights movement, having suffered from being a “non-conforming” alpha in his life.

 **Alexandrite (Alex) FitzAlan:** Younger dominant alpha brother of the FitzAlan clan at 27. Short and stocky with reddish hair and green eyes, he’s basically a younger version of his father in appearance. Slightly timid and quiet, he rejected socialising with Mica from a young age and spent more time with his sisters and mothers. As a result, he’s much more comfortable around omegas and highly protective of them. He’s usually initially shy and reserved, but once relaxed he’s cheeky and enthusiastic. Runs the vineyard with his father and is extremely passionate about it. Ends up slightly in love with JD, who he thinks is fascinating and cute. Slightly more dominant than Perry, much to his annoyance. Smells of grapevines. Forever known as Chicken Nugget.

Bonded states:

**Unbonded:** No specific direct interest in any partner, although can be dating.

 **Partially bonded:** Very unusual in the current society. Most alphas and omegas are unaware of this state. Can occur gradually over courtship, or can be caused by a dramatic event that heightens the partially bonded state (usually the alpha protecting the omega, but potentially vice versa and also any high stress situation where they’re together). Causes inhibitor rejection, scent focus, rejection of other alphas/omegas, sleep issues when separated, etc. Essentially a serious psychological condition that can have severe physical responses. Effects can be lessened by mating, but only full “cure” is bonding.

 **Bonded:** Extreme responsiveness to bonded partner and reduction in impact from other alphas and omegas. Significant issues if separated over a long period of time, but after the initial bonding pheromones wear off then they can be apart for a few days without too many problems.

“Urban Myths”:

**DOs can recognise other DOs, even on inhibitors:** Shown to be true by Iolite (and later JD). Likely occurs due to DO heightened sense of smell and perception, but essentially their eyes just don’t look “right” to a DO.

 **Bonded couples become telepathic:** Not true, but both parental, sibling and mating bonds have a certain ability to influence each other. (e.g. Io is aware something is horribly wrong when Amber dies, Dan understands that JD needs him to act like nothing’s wrong after he presents, even though Dan’s not very empathetic, JD and Cox occasionally think very similar things or things “in the vocal style” of the other (don’t make too obvious), JD’s nightmare where he hears Perry telling him he’s cruel, etc.)

 **If omegas and alphas reach sexual nirvana then they become unicorns:** Definitely not true, but something JD made up and has tried to convince Io is true. Io also hopes this.

Why presentation occurs:

Not actually understood in universe. Essentially there’s some sort of pheromonal chromosome that you’re born with but there’s no real way of detecting. Pheromonal sensitivity is based on genetics, but parents do not need to have high pheromonal ratings for their children to inherit this – can be genetically recessive. Alpha/beta/omega is **not** a sliding scale though, as is assumed. Children are born with a pheromonal “rating” (none – mild – recessive – dominant) and then it’s dependent on how many alpha/omega pheromones they produce when in puberty as to whether they’re alpha or omega (like babies in utero all start female and then depends on how much testosterone they’re exposed to as to whether they become male or stay female – ironically, omega pheromones are like testosterone). Alphas and omegas are essentially extremely alike and it’s likely that there are so few omegas because stressors and social environment mean that as a result children tend to present earlier when they have more alpha pheromones; as children get older they can then produce more omega pheromones if that’s actually their biological second gender. Hence why Dan presented younger than JD as alpha (he wasn’t going to release any omega pheromones so he was ready younger) and JD later as omega. If JD had been more stressed out about apparently not being alpha he likely would have presented as a DA when younger because you can psychologically push yourself into presenting early, but was allowed to properly develop and present correctly as omega.

General idea being that omegas are more evolved than alphas – they have a lot of the physical attributes (teeth, scent glands, actually quite strong, etc.) but also a better capability for self control outside of heats, stronger pheromones, an ability to be more perceptive and to manipulate others ( _including_ betas, which alphas can’t do as successfully) and alter their moods. Can essentially calm or rile up an entire room if they want to. Omegas would actually technically make better doctors, business people, etc. as they’re generally more balanced and less prone to being overpowered by their hormones (again, outside of heats).

Table of all characters and their ratings:

“Hang on, how come Mica’s a dominant omega and the Janitor’s recessive when they’re the same on this scale?”

Money, dear reader. Money.

Iolite used to be at the same rating as Amber until she became unregulated, which is quite a big jump (less so if JD did, for example).

Also, yes, if Kelso had a higher pheromonal rating then he would have been omega.

Alpha/omega sex:

**Knotting:** Overdeveloped alpha penis swells at the base, essentially trapping the omega. Usually accompanies orgasm, but can occur outside of it.

 **Locking:** Less well-known ability (alphas don’t all believe in it as they can’t all get an omega to do it and not strictly necessary for procreation – think female orgasm), flexible omega “sheath” can contract and squeeze in response to intense stimulation, usually resulting in both alpha and omega orgasming. Remains locked for some time afterwards with the knot. Recessives can also do it, but less intensely.

 **Slick:** Produced by male and female omegas, but usually referred to as a male omega thing. Required for lubrication for aforesaid overdeveloped alpha penis.

Sexuality:

Alphas can have sex with all genders and not be judged (although it’s always assumed the alpha is on top and people politely don’t wonder who topped who in alpha-alpha sex). Betas are basically treated as people are in this universe (straight-bi-gay) and bi and gay betas are treated shittily by some backwards members of society. Omegas are all expected to only want to sleep with alphas and any that go outside of this are viewed as aberrations.

Male omegas are expected to usually have sex with male alphas, entirely due to some male alphas having a thing for male omegas. Female alphas are also generally expected to want to be with female omegas. Because society says that omegas should be fucked and alphas should do the fucking, essentially. Male omegas and female alphas are essentially the only ones who can comfortably (without prior preparation/equipment) both penetrate and be penetrated and their gender is completely disconnected to what they most enjoy. Entirely societal pressure. Demonstrated by JD having sex with beta girls and, let’s face it, Jordan definitely fucked Perry sometimes.

Other things:

If there are any other questions then I’ll try to edit and explain them here. If I can, of course…

Is there more MUT?

All of the omegas have specific back stories that I wrote along with MUT which kind of explained why they are like they are (including why Io deregulated and exactly what happened with Greg’s abusive ex-alpha). I have these ready to upload but am not sure whether I should as 1. some of them are really *really* dark (and if you’ve read some of my other works then you should know that’s saying something, I have a high angst threshold – two of them *die* during their stories) – and 2. I’m actually unsure where I’d put them. I could put them in original works, but they do feature Carla and Paige who are Scrubs characters (and Perry is obviously a character in Paige’s story). If readers are interested then I can host them up, just wanted to check as I don’t want to make anyone unhappy with some pretty upsetting content (on the plus side, all the surviving OCs are clearly a lot happier now, these ones are essentially showing the darkest parts of their lives). Please do let me know, I’m a bit unsure of it, which is pretty unusual for me. I’ve basically got Iolite’s risk appetite usually.

Is there a MUT sequel?

Uhhhhh. I don’t know. I definitely have some sub-plots in mind I could use, but I’m not sure if there’s a definitive narrative that would keep a full story going. Let me think about it. If I can come up with a plot that I’m happy with then I’ll draft it and see what I think about it. I’m so *so* happy with MUT and part of me wants to leave it standalone in a way, but another part really doesn’t want to leave these characters. For something that initially came about with an idle “oh, wouldn’t Scrubs be a good A/B/O setting?” thought followed by two scenes (Io in heat in the nurse’s station, dancing and making a scene and Perry finding JD heating on the roof), it developed into a story in my mind so fast. I honestly thought there’d be no interest in it but once I’d started I just had to write it. I’ve really been blown away by the support you’ve all shown for it, thank you so much. This is my first “new” story in over 10 years (MCPs were both continuations) and I’m genuinely so fond of it. I’ve loved building this world and creating all the OCs. So… so, we’ll see.

I’m still working on that damn non-Scrubs fic. It will happen, I just had to clear MUT out of my system first.

I’ve got another Scrubs project on the go now too, but it won’t be anywhere near the length of this monster and not MCA either (series has officially been completed for now, although I may post some more later). If you like my stuff then follow me and you should see when I post something new. It likely won’t be all that long, although I might give myself a few weeks off since I’ve been posting a new chapter every Friday since July 2019 (with occasional additions). I’m consistent guys, it must be said. Whether I’m consistently good is, of course, down to personal taste.

Thank you so much for kudos and comments, particularly those who did so every chapter and gave me such motivating feedback :) I hope to see you all soon!

Stay safe out there.

RumCove

9th October 2020


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